


Draco Malfoy And The Quest To Make Potter Happy

by dildowizard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Divorce, Ginny Bashing, Hiatus, Luna and Rolf just know things, M/M, On Hiatus, Potions, Slow Burn, feel like ill just tag it as a warning, ill tag that again so you are aware before you read this, plot hole game too strong I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dildowizard/pseuds/dildowizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy almost knocks an entire shelf full of potions straight off of the wall when the bell on the door rings at 9 o'clock in the morning and he turns to see none other than Harry Potter stumbling into his shop, his dark hair in an unspeakable state of disarray and his robes rumpled beyond belief. He looks awful, dark circles under his eyes and his face too thin, his skin too pale. Grey hairs stand out on his head, his green eyes are dull and almost lifeless and he looks like he hasn't smiled in years.</p><p>Note to reader:  Draco just wants to make him smile.</p><p>ON HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a few months ago and never got around to posting it. But I'm feeling quite alright today and I just ate waffles so I have decided to put my pride on the line and just get this fic out there. Hoping to post a new chapter every Sunday, but I feel like maybe it'll be every other Sunday. Let me know what you think:)
> 
> edit: this fic is a mess and I will never finish it, but it is a mess which I dedicated a huge chunk of my life to so, if you'd like to read it, go ahead. enjoy.

Draco Malfoy almost knocks an entire shelf full of potions straight off of the wall when the bell on the door rings at nine o'clock in the morning and he turns to see none other than Harry Potter stumbling into his shop, his dark hair in an unspeakable state of disarray and his robes rumbled beyond belief. He looks awful, dark circles under his eyes and his face too thin, his skin too pale. Grey hairs stand out on his head, his green eyes are dull and almost lifeless and he looks like he hasn't smiled in years.

Draco stares at him for a moment too long then looks away, pretending to rearrange the phials of various potions on the front desk. He hasn't seen Potter since the Death Eater trials seventeen years ago, when he'd testified for Draco and his mother. He hasn't even read about him in the papers since he stopped reading the Daily Prophet around about that time.

In fact, the last Draco had even heard of Potter was probably almost three years ago now, when he'd heard the waitresses at his favourite tea shop gossiping with one another over the counter top about how he was married to the girl Weasel and they were having their third child. At the time, Draco had scowled and imagined a grinning young-looking Potter standing with two tiny ginger children and a beaming, pregnant Ginevra Weasley holding his hand and kissing his cheek. Evidently, his imagination must've been wrong. Now all he can see is the face of a miserable Harry Potter.

Back at the time of the trials, Potter had looked the same as ever. The Potter he knew was, whilst an annoying fucking piece of shit, a vaguely charismatic kid. Now, though... He just looks tired.

He certainly looks tired as he quite literally stumbles through the door of the shop, takes one look at Draco, sighs, then stalks off, disappearing between the isles of potions. For a moment, Draco closes his eyes and asks the universe "why me?" and then, he pulls himself together and continues to feign absolute concentration in his phial rearranging.

After the trials, Draco had struggled to find work in a wizarding world full of people who seemed to absolutely hate him. Of course, at Hogwarts, he'd planned on finding a job at the ministry, but that was near impossible with his father rotting in Azkaban and his family name rotting along with him. His mother wanted him to stay home with her at the manor, she told him that they were fine for money, because although the ministry had taken away half of the Malfoy fortune, they were still left with more than enough to live out their lives comfortably.

Though this was true, he couldn't imagine laying around in a house full of dark memories of the war without a job to keep him out of the house for most of the day. And, well, he looked everywhere for employment, even in the most minor of the ministry departments, but no one seemed to want him. So he thought "Hey, I'm good at potions," and now here he is, the owner of a tiny apothecary just off Diagon Ally named "Essential Brews", living in the average sized flat that was built above the shop. He gets by.

By the time Draco is finished with his internal reflection, the phials of potions on the front desk have been rearranged so much that they don't really look like they have a particular order anymore. He'll have to reorganise them once Potter has left and he can actually _think_ again. Right now, he just has to focus on not keeling over from nostalgia.

"Malfoy."

Draco's breath catches and he forces himself to keep his neutral expression in tact as he turns away from his phial rearranging and faces Potter. The man meets his gaze with his dull and tired green eyes. Draco nods once. "Good morning."

Potter places the two phials of liquid onto the counter in front of him, stares expectantly until Draco picks them up. The label reads "Blemish Blitzer, three Galleons".

"Finally hit puberty then, Potter?"

Potter sighs. "They're for my son. He was too embarrassed to buy them himself."

"If you say so." says Draco, raising an eyebrow. "That'll be six Galleons, thanks. Bag?"

Fishing the money out of his pocket, Potter sighs once more when he drops the coins onto the counter. "No thanks." he says and takes the phials from the counter, tucking them into the pocket of his robes. "See you."

"Do come again soon, Potter." Draco says to Potter's back once he's turned and is making his way towards the door. Draco doesn't get a reply before the door slams shut behind him and the shop is silent once again.

This time, Draco is the one that sighs.

**

When Pansy quite rudely barges through the door into Draco's flat later that night, Draco is just dozing off on the couch with a glass of red wine in one hand and a book in the other, hovering in an odd state of half-dream-half-reality and feeling oddly relaxed for once. He always makes sure to take full advantage of moments like these, as they don't come often for him. Normally he just puts up with feeling on edge most of the time. He's kind of used to it by now. So a peaceful moment is a blessing, and Draco's enjoyment and contentedness is probably why the universe sent Pansy along to ruin it all. It wouldn't fucking surprise him, all things considered.

She comes bustling into the living room, heels clicking noisily on the floor, with a loud "Evening, darling!" and Draco, confused, quite literally jumps the fuck out of his skin, spilling red wine all over his pyjama shirt and the bottom right hand corner of the pages of his book.

"Pansy you- what the fuck are you doing here? I swear it's bloody nearly midnight!" He hisses, slamming his book and wine glass down on the coffee table in front of him. He glares mournfully at the dark red stain on the front of his brand new white pyjamas.

"I'll have you know it's only 9:30pm and I brought over some Chinese, as you most likely forgot to eat again tonight." She glares pointedly at him, setting down her purse and the two paper bags of take out on the coffee table. "Quite frankly I find it pitiful that your sitting here alone drinking-" Pansy pauses sniffs the bottle of wine he'd left on the side a few hours ago. She wrinkles her nose. "-cheap ass wine made in 2006 and reading Pride and Predjudi- hold on, isn't that a Muggle novel?"

Draco starts abruptly. Admittedly, since the war, he'd found reading wizarding literature a rather unpleasant, as the frequent references to the war unlocked corners of his mind that he never intended to revisit. Muggle books were the next best thing, to be honest. "So what if it is?"

Pansy hums and smiles an annoyingly knowing smile.

"What?!"

Pansy shrugs, knowing smile still present on her face.

"For fucks sake, Pansy! I cannot believe you have the nerve to march into my flat at this time of night-"

"-it's only half 9!"

"-and question my reading habits, then smile your annoying fucking I-know-something-you-don't smile at my perfectly neutral answer! You even made me spill my wine all over my pyjamas!"

"Oh, Draco, don't sulk. It's not like you don't have other pyjamas, Merlin."

"That's not the point."

"Speaking of pyjamas, you'd better go and change your shirt. I'll put the Chinese onto plates while you're at it." Pansy says, then she ushers Draco out of the room in the direction of his bedroom. Draco sighs and shakes his head, wondering why he was even still friends with Pansy, then he carts himself off down the hallway to change his top.

As much as he hates to admit it, Pansy was right, he has got plenty of other pyjamas. He changes into an identical shirt in a pastel shade of light blue. Then he sighs once more and joins Pansy in the kitchen for the Chinese that he will definitely be eating the leftovers of for the next week. Draco doesn't much want to spend his evening like this and, quite frankly, he'd rather be asleep on the sofa already, but, though he will deny it if asked at a later date, he vaguely enjoys Pansy's sometimes annoying company. It beats being alone.

They sit at the counter in the kitchen and talk about neutral things whilst eating their food, and Draco respectfully remembers Pansy's "no talking about sad things at the dinner table" rule and refrains from blurting out something about Potter being in his store today. Instead, he tries to focus on speaking about only Quidditch and also the weather. By the time they've finished, it's eleven in the evening and Draco is achingly tired, and Pansy, having probably seen the fatigue on his face, sends him to bed. He goes willingly and collapses onto his bed in a heap, falling asleep immediately.

**

Silence is a sound that Harry hears very frequently. He's sort of used to it, as sad as that may sound. Every day after the children have been put to bed, Ginny and he eat their dinner in silence, the only noise the scrape of their metal cutlery against the china of their plates. Harry's eyes droop as he eats his pasta, his face feels heavy and he can't wait to finally be able to go to bed once he's finished his food. He needs sleep.

Seeing Malfoy earlier on had taken a shit tonne of energy out of him, he was hit with odd memories that had been buried at the back of his mind for years. Although he doesn't read the Daily Prophet, Ginny does, so he has seen and heard of Malfoy a few times over the last few years. All he'd seen was mostly just news about his business and other rumours which were far too scandalous to be deemed true. Most of everyone didn't believe that any of the shit about Malfoy was legit. Even the most media-ridden idiots could tell that the Malfoy gossip was a load of codswallop.

But seeing him in person had been a shock to the system. Harry admits that he went to the apothecary fully aware that Draco Malfoy was the one who owned it. Afterwards, he'd wondered why he'd gone to that shop specifically, and not some other store that sold spot potions. Harry, having no reason to overthink it, has since decided to ignore this thought. He is currently sitting across from Ginny at the dinner table, illicitly making sure to not think about it.

Ginny sighs and puts her fork down, looking at him with dull and tired eyes. She looks at him for a few moments, considering something. Harry doesn't falter in his pasta-eating, he's actually in quite a hurry to get to bed.

"You went out today?" asks Ginny, flatly.

Harry narrows his eyes. "Uh, yes."

"Huh." she says.

"Er," Harry says, confused. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason." Ginny shrugs in a way that suggests that there is, in fact, a reason. A few seconds pass. "Except that you haven't been out in months and I'm curious as to what finally dragged you out of the house."

Harry pauses in his pasta-eating. "It hasn't been months, Ginny, just since I quit the-"

"Since you quit the Aurors, yes, which was months ago! Three months ago! And since then you haven't been out of the house aside from when you're taking the rubbish out. Where did you go?"

"Only to the apothecary!" Harry says, honestly. "James needed a few phials of Blemish Blitzer."

Ginny says nothing, just picks up her fork and begins to eat again.

After a few more seconds of silence, Harry sighs. "What's your problem? Isn't it good that I finally went out today after months of brooding?"

"Sure." Ginny says. She doesn't look at him. "It sure is good that you went to the apothecary. May I ask which apothecary you went to?"

Harry presses his lips together. "Essential Brews-"

"Essential Brews!" Ginny slams her fork down, splattering orange pasta sauce all over the tablecloth. "What a fucking surprise!"

"Gin-"

"You've been glancing nervously at the articles about Draco Malfoy in the Daily Prophet all month, Harry, it was only a matter of time." Harry gapes at Ginny whilst she rants. "You haven't seen him in years, clearly you were just itching to see pop over and visit. It's like you get withdrawal symptoms whenever you go too long without him, it's ridiculous."

Harry gapes at her some more. "That's- that's not true!"

"It _is_. You know it! You did the same thing for months before you insisted we went to that ministry fund raiser 3 years ago and Malfoy was there, and you spent the whole evening avoiding him, not being seen but also watching him like a hawk. Then, surprise surprise, after that, you were fine again."

"What- Ginny, what are you talking about?" Harry stammers. His head pounds with the stress of making sense.

"You know what I'm talking about."

They both stare at each other in absolute silence for a solid minute. Not one of them moves to resume eating, even though Harry wants to just eat and then go to bed. Instead, they stare at each other across the table, tensed and ready to react if the other pounces.

This happens for longer than Harry deems necessary, but he doesn't have the courage to break the silence until he can literally take no more of it.

"What do you want me to say, Ginny?" He blurts.

She stands with a heavy, dramatic scrape of her chair and says, "Do you know what, Harry Potter? I want you to take some time to seriously consider this question for me; Are you married to Draco Malfoy, or me?"

And with that, Ginny draws her wand, vanishes her plate along with her pasta, then turns and stomps down corridor, up the stairs and into their bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Harry is, at once, confused.

**

"Dad. Daddy." Says Lily the next day, waking him up from his afternoon nap. She looks at him with her wide green three year old eyes and clings to his wrist with one tiny spittle-covered hand, using her other to clutch the arm of the sofa next to her. The sounds of her brothers and her Mum talking in the kitchen are muffled by the door.

Harry hums, his eyes heavy and only half open. He'll need a while to wake up completely but he's fairly confident that he can handle toddler speak at this current moment in time. "Yes, Lily?"

"Are you and Mummy splitting up?"

Harry's eyes pop open abruptly and he splutters for a minute. Suddenly, he feels more awake than ever. "What- I, er- Lily, honey, what makes you say that?" He stammers, laughing nervously.

"I heard yelling yesterday. Well I heard Mummy yelling at you after we went to bed last night." Lily's eyes get impossibly wider and somehow more innocent. "Charlotte from play school said that when her mummy and daddy split up, they did a lot of yelling."

Harry sighs. He should have seen this coming. The kids are all old enough to think now and he should've realised that their little kiddie thoughts might head in the direction of divorces. "No, honey. Your Mum and I have no plans to split up right now." Harry assures her with a tired smile.

Lily presses her lips together in an expression that reminds him of Ginny and says nothing. Then she gets up and walks towards the door, heading to join her older brothers in the kitchen. Harry leans back on the sofa and frowns, confused. _Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of ashamed by how short and useless this chapter is, but I really wanted to get it posted today because it's been a week since I posted chapter one. It's also very Draco centric, but the next one should have more of Harry and Ginny's situation in it. I'm sorry if I disappointed you, I promise to try and do a better job of the next one. Please correct any of my spelling or grammar mistakes!

When Draco visits his mother on the following Wednesday afternoon, Narcissa Malfoy is in a terribly, terribly good mood. 

She greets her son at the front door with a smile, which in itself is enough to shock him so thoroughly that he forgets to speak and for several seconds he stands in the doorway with wide eyes and barely refrains from gaping at the woman, before she raises her eyebrows and invites him inside. Then she proceeds to ask him to follow her outside where they will quote unquote "bask in the beauty of the gardens" and have tea. Draco follows her without a word, not even snorting at his mother's choice of words, mostly out of fear of her utterly cheerful smile. 

They take their seats opposite each other at the garden table on the patio. He breathes out and takes in the familiarity of his surroundings. The Manor's gardens are warm, there are no clouds in the sky and though sun beams down on them with a great strength, there is a pleasant breeze that just keeps one cool enough to not be uncomfortable. The summer flowers are at their August time prime and everything is orange and yellow and pink and it annoys Draco to no end. It's so bright and cheerful, it does no favours to his pale complexion. It also adds to the overflowing amount of joy in the household, which makes Draco feel compelled to frown. It confuses him.

"What seems to be the matter, Draco?" says his mother with yet another smile, noticing his furrowing brow.

Draco starts and tries his hardest not to frown at her, but he finds it so hard that he sweats with the effort of it. "Nothing." He croaks.

"Goodness, don't frown like that. You'll give yourself premature wrinkles." She says, exasperatedly. "Tea?"

She doesn't wait for an answer from him before she snaps her fingers and their elf Wispy brings them a plate of tiny pink cakes along with a pot of tea and mother's favourite set of china teacups.

"Please, have a mini strawberry tart." She insists, pushing the plate towards him. She then pours tea into both of their tea cups and adds sugar to one of them, handing him the other. "How's business?"

Draco narrows his eyes suspiciously. His mother never asks about his apothecary or his job unless she is forced to and it is absolutely necessary. "Er- the business is going well, thank you. Quite well."

She nods sincerely. "Of course. I hear you've gained plenty of regular customers over the last few years."

"Yes, that would be true." Draco forces out, lacking anything else to say. 

His mother smiles and slides a "mini strawberry tart" into her mouth. "That's good to hear. I'm proud of you."

Something about Narcissa Malfoy's behaviour makes Draco suspect that his mother either has some bad news she wants to break to him and is trying to soften the blow, or she's sucking up to him and is going to ask him for a favour. He currently can't think of which situation is worse.

"So, Draco. Do you plan to marry?" This. This is the worst situation Draco can imagine. The marriage conversation.

You see, he has always most definitely had plans to marry at some point. Ever since he was in his first year, he's known that he, as the last remaining Malfoy heir, is required to provide a child so that the bloodline can continue. At Hogwarts, and even for a little while after the war, he was perfectly alright with taking it up with Pansy, hopefully marrying her and having babies with her.

However, after the absolute train wreck that came of their relationship, he was unfortunately sent plummeting in a downward spiral of self discovery and he suddenly realised that vagina kind of made him feel sick and he liked blokes way better. It somehow slipped his mind that at some point he'd have to tell his mother that he had no plans to marry a rich pureblood woman and produce tiny pureblood children.

So, Draco takes a deep breath and says, "No."

Narcissa purses her lips. "No? Is there a particular reason?"

Draco takes a sip of his tea. His mother's smile and positivity has long since dissolved into thin air, and in it's place sits an unreadable stony expression.

"Because, Draco, I'd hoped that by now you'd have realised that producing and heir is crucially important and-"

"Mother, it's because I'm gay. I like men."

Narcissa pauses for a moment, a mini strawberry tart frozen halfway into her mouth. Then she sighs and drops the tart back onto the plate, her stony expression melting, and suddenly she looks like a wilted and disappointed flower. "I'd suspected as much."

Draco chokes on nothing. "You- you'd suspected as much?!"

"You're my son." Narcissa says, as if that statement alone can explain everything. "And you were with Pansy, a beautiful and perfect woman, with whom you've always been close friends, and it didn't work at all. From the moment your relationship with her ended, I've been at least 80% certain that you prefer males."

Draco pauses and takes a long, drawn out sip of his tea, looking at her expectantly. "Aren't you going to yell at me for "shaming the family" or something?"

His mother frowns at him in disbelief. "No. As I say, I've been suspecting this for a while and I have had time to adjust to the idea of not having grandchildren."

Exhaling, Draco sags with relief so suddenly that his tea sloshes violently in his cup and threatens to spill into his lap. "Thank you, mother." he says quietly, vaguely pleased with the reaction.

"You're welcome." She replies, with a softer, more humane smile than the one she was sporting earlier. Draco feels compelled to smile back.

**

On Friday morning, Draco is unsurprisingly in an absolutely abysmal mood. It's raining outside, he ran out of coffee in his flat this morning and he has a terrible runny nose, so he really just wants to go back to sleep and never wake up. To make things worse, business seems to be booming, so there've been several customers who want to talk to him about things, even though he clearly doesn't want to speak to anyone at all. It is awful. He struggles through the morning without being rude or sarcastic, even managing to be vaguely polite, but by lunch time, he has had enough.

Fortunately, the shop quietens down at about 1pm, so he can breathe once again. He takes the opportunity to organise the shop. The empty phials in his lab behind the stock room are decreasing in number, so he decides to dig out the extra supply in preparation for tomorrow when he brews the potions for next week. Consequently, he is in the midst of yanking a large box of phials out from beneath his desk when he hears the bell ring on the door ring to alert him of yet another customer's presence. He sighs, annoyed at the person's inconvenient timing, given that he is currently laying face down on the floor wrestling a cardboard box, giving the person a view of him flopping around like a fish in the middle of his store. The customer clears their throat.

"Just a second." He pants, giving the box a final tug before he gives up and sighs, pushing himself up from the floor and brushing off his robes. Out of breath because of the stupid box, he turns to greet the customer. "Sorry, sir, how can I help-" And, just his luck, the customer is Potter. Potter, who has just seen him flailing around on the floor like an complete idiot, but still doesn't smile. "Potter?"

"Malfoy." Draco stares at Potter. He doesn't look any different than he did the last time he was here, except his robes are slightly more in order than they had been, and today they are a stunning deep shade of green that Draco grudgingly approves of. "Need some help with that box?" Potter offers, motioning towards the stubborn box that hangs limply out of the shelf of his desk.

Draco shrugs and steps aside. "You can give it a go if you like, it's stuck in there pretty good, though."

Potter moves forward and drops to his knees in front of Draco's desk. Draco can do nothing but stare as he grips the box with both of his hands and gives it a firm tug, the muscles in his arm flexing with the force of it. The stubborn box refuses to move. It actually seems to slip further back into the shelf, and if a box can look smug, this box looks like one smug little bitch. Potter gives the box another feeble jerk but the box still does not budge. He sighs and sits back on his knees. "Damn."

Draco laughs sharply. "Damn indeed. Just leave it, I'll have to get Gregory to come over in the morning, I need those phials for brewing tomorrow."

Eying the box speculatively, Potter doesn't move. Draco frowns. He watches as the man sits in silence for a few seconds, then instantaneously lunges forwards and gives the box a violent tug. He receives the same result as his previous attempts, but this time he topples backwards and lands on his bottom, grunting.

"What the fuck were you hoping to achieve by doing that?" asks Draco, his frown merging with his confused amusement.

Potter's sullen look deepens. "I don't know. Element of surprise?"

Then, out of the blue, Draco surprises them both with a genuine full bodied laugh. "You hoped to surprise an inanimate object? A cardboard box?"

"It could've worked..." Mumbles Potter, and the ghost of a small, foreign smile blooms on his face. Draco's insides turn all warm and fuzzy at the sight of it. He wants to see Potter smile more.

Clearing his throat, he holds out his hand to Potter, who takes it and pulls himself up. "Oh Potter, you never cease to shock me with your stupidity. Now what did you come here for?"

"Another phial of Blemish Blitzer and some Bruise Removal Paste."

Draco nods. "Certainly. If you wait here, I can retrieve both of them in less than a minute." He holds Potter's eyes for a few more seconds, then shakes himself and turns abruptly, disappearing between the isles of potions. _Shit_ , Draco thinks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not proud of this, it's not my best writing, but I've been super busy since Easter and I really didn't want to post anything too short because you guys deserve more than that. It's only about 3k words but I hope you like it. I promise to write more next time and I hope it'll be better than this chapter when I do eventually put it up.
> 
> Warning: Quite a lot of Ginny bashing because she's a bitch in this fic.

"Been out again?" says Ginny when Harry arrives home after his visit to Malfoy's apothecary, her sharp gaze pinning him to the spot in the doorway of the kitchen. She is sitting at the table with a glass of white wine in her hand, her legs crossed and her lips pursed in a way that shows she means business.

After their discussion the other night, the one in which Ginny accused Harry of being madly in love with Draco Malfoy, they'd barely spoken to each other. Ginny had wordlessly moved his things into the spare room, and although Harry didn't quite know what he'd done wrong, he didn't dare comment on it. In fact, the only words they'd exchanged were the occasional "Morning" when they were in front of the children, and on one occasion, Harry had said "We need more toothpaste." and received a short nod from his wife.

So now, the concept of conversation with Ginny is daunting, but he still refuses to be rendered weak by her attempts to intimidate him. He looks away from her and moves through the kitchen, around the table, to the medicine cupboard in the corner of the room.

As he retrieves the Bruise Removal Paste from the bag Malfoy had given him at the store and reaches up to slip it into the medicine cupboard, he says "Yes, I went out again. Where are the kids?" without glancing back at her. He can feel Ginny's stare on him from her seat on the other side of the kitchen, but he doesn't yield.

"They're with Ron and Hermione." Ginny says tightly. "You were at the apothecary, I'm guessing?"

Harry pretends to rearrange the potions and bottles in the cupboard, not turning to meet her gaze. "Yes. Draco sends his regards." The deliberate use of Malfoy's first name is cruel, and Harry feels guilty immediately after the words come out of his mouth, but Ginny is being completely unreasonable, accusing him of being in love with a man he was once enemies with and has only spoken to briefly since their teen years. Harry is only fighting fire with fire.

But something must snap in Ginny, because she then violently stands from her seat at the table, scraping the chair loudly on the tiles in the process. She takes a few long strides towards him and Harry can't help but turn to look at her, trying to keep his face level and innocent as he watches her glare at him with fierce eyes, her face burning with anger and her wine glass trapped in her clenched fist. "What are you playing at?!" She hisses.

"No, Ginny, what are you playing at?! You've done nothing but glare at me suspiciously over the last few days and I don't really understand what your deal is!"

"You know what my deal is. We spoke quite clearly about it the other day. I made my wishes plain and simple."

Harry blinks at her. "What wishes? What are you on about?"

Ginny lets out a loud, bitter laugh. "Merlin, Harry, I know you've never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but are you honestly so thick that you can't decipher what I meant by 'Are you married to Draco Malfoy, or me'? Or is this your way of giving me your answer?"

Harry stares at Ginny incredulously. "What? No, I just went to the apothecary! You're clearly missing something, Ginny. I am not in love with Draco bloody fucking Malfoy!" He hasn't a clue where all of these accusations are coming from. They've been married for a long fucking time and they always managed to live out their lives without ever bringing up Malfoy, so why is it that now Ginny can't seem to drop the topic? It's not like Harry stares longingly with hearts in his eyes at every photograph of Malfoy he sees in the _Daily Prophet_. Merlin, if he even looks at the photos, it's only with innocent curiosity, which is understandable, considering the man was his childhood rival. He can't understand how Ginny managed to the come to the conclusion that Harry is madly in love with him.

Scoffing, Ginny says "Yeah, I'm sure it was merely a quick visit to buy some Bruise Removal Paste that we already have enough of and some Blemish Blitzer that James doesn't even need to use anymore." in a sharp sarcastic tone. "Soon, you'll end up just buying things for the sake of buying things and we'll have enough potions to set up our own apothecary."

Incomprehensible noises escape Harry's lips. He is unable to find an excuse, so he ends up just blurting "Well, what do you want me to do Ginny?!" even though it doesn't really make sense, given the situation.

Ginny sighs and looks at him with stern eyes. "I want you to stop making excuses to see Malfoy and start paying attention to your family. The kids need you, they need _us_. Forget about him, Harry, you're obsession is destroying this marriage."

Perhaps Harry would've been able to find some sympathy for her if she hadn't just accused him of neglecting his family and destroying their marriage, but he'll never know, because she did it. Harry's jaw drops so violently that he momentarily worries about the possibility of dislocating it, but then he snaps it shut and says " _I'm_ destroying our marriage?! Who the fuck do you think started throwing around accusations in the first place? I've literally been to the apothecary twice to buy some potions, it's not like I showed up and fucked him then came home and flaunted it in your face!"

"By the sounds of it, Harry, your not far off a merry fuck!" Ginny yells back.

"Oh my fuck- Merlin, I can't believe you right now, can you even hear yourself?!" Harry laughs bitterly. "Twice! I have seen Malfoy twice in the last year and you're telling me you're scared I might fuck him? If I went out tomorrow and met up with Cho would you accuse me of fucking her, too? Oh wait, Seamus comes over every other Tuesday for a catch up when you take the kids out for ice cream, maybe I'm fucking him too?"

"No, because I know you're not obsessed with Cho or Seamus!"

The seconds of silence that follow Ginny's remark are painful. Eventually, Harry shakes his head and sighs. "Fuck you, Ginny. I'm going to stay at Luna's tonight."

As he exits the kitchen to pack a bag, Ginny watches him go, but doesn't say anything. She just stands there, her face burning, her hand clenched so tightly around her wineglass that her knuckles are white. "Is this it, then?" Ginny asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry feels so tired as he turns back to her in the kitchen doorway. All he wants right now is to be alone. "I don't know Ginny, is it?" He asks, not waiting for an answer as he turns and walks away.

**

Luna doesn't ask what happened between him and Ginny when he firecalls her to ask if he can crash with her and Rolf for the next few days. She just looks at him with a small concerned frown and says "Of course you can, come on through. I've got a casserole in the oven, that'll cheer you up." and that is that before her face disappears. He steps through the fireplace into his friend's living room, stumbling only slightly before he brushes some soot off of his green robes and smiles thankfully at Luna.

"Thank you, Luna. Ginny and I had a bit of a fight..." He says ruefully.

"It's no problem, Harry. You don't have to tell me about what happened with Ginny, but if you need to talk, I'll listen." Luna smiles and tucks a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. She turns towards the kitchen, motioning for him to follow. "Now come along, the casserole should be done soon."

"Thank you." He says once more, following close behind his friend.

Rolf smiles at him when they enter the kitchen. He's reading the paper, much like he normally was when Harry used to visit on a regular basis. Harry smiles back gratefully and doesn't let himself peek at the headlines, taking a seat at the table when Luna motions for him to sit. "I'll just serve the food, I won't be a minute." she says, wandering off to the other end of the kitchen.

Watching his wife walk away, Rolf folds the paper in his hands and sets it down on the table. He turns slightly and regards Harry with a careful gaze. "Rough patch with Ginny?" He asks. Harry nods sullenly. "It's expected, you know. You've been married for so long and you've never had any serious problems as a couple. Both Luna and I are here if you ever need to talk to anyone about it."

Harry nods again. His gaze drops to the table and he studies the scrapes and imperfections on the surface, the subtle signs of age on the wood. For some time, seconds or minutes, they sit in silence. Harry sighs. "She told me she thought that I was in love with-" He pauses for a second. "-a man. A man I used to hate and haven't interacted with in years." He says, poorly disguised bitterness seeping into his voice. "I don't understand where it came from, but suddenly I made a couple of trips to the apothecary and accusations were flying and she was shouting at me for being obsessed with him and destroying our marriage and neglecting our children and I couldn't take it, you know? So I packed a bag and firecalled Luna. Thank you for letting me stay for a bit, by the way."

Rolf waved his hand dismissively at his thanks. "It's no problem, Harry. You're our friend. Luna and I are glad to have you. And about what's happening with Ginny, have you considered taking a step back and looking at the situation as it must be from her point of view? If you haven't been in contact with the man for a while, as far as she's concerned, she thinks that you've just abruptly started making visits to a shop just to see him. If she sees that and is interpreting it as some kind of obsession, then she's misunderstanding the situation. You just need to explain that to her."

"That's the thing! I've tried explaining it to her!" Harry exclaims, frustrated. "She won't hear it! She just keeps dismissing my attempts to explain and telling me to "let go of my obsession" and-"

"Harry." Luna says, appearing suddenly and setting down three plates of beef casserole at the table. She takes a seat. "Is the man you're supposedly in love with Draco Malfoy?" She asks, having obviously overheard the conversation. She picks up her fork and starts to eat, as if she'd just asked a something as casual as what his opinion on the weather is.

Staring at her incredulously, Harry mutters "Yes."

A beat of silence occurs. "Oh." says Rolf. "That explains it." Luna and Rolf exchange a look, having a silent conversation amongst themselves.

Harry is instantaneously confused, which is not unusual. "What explains it?"

Breaking eye contact with her husband, Luna looks at Harry with apologetic, almost pitiful eyes, a sad smile on her face. "During your sixth year, you were sort of obsessed with following Draco around, were you not? At the time, Ginny was afraid that your obsession then ran deeper than merely thinking that he was "up to something". She expressed her fears to me and I told her she shouldn't worry about you, that she should leave you to it. Now, I think that your visits to the apothecary are digging up old fears that have been buried in her mind since we were at Hogwarts."

Harry nods slowly. "What do you think I should do?"

Luna resumes eating her casserole. It doesn't seem like she's going to answer him, so Rolf picks up his fork and says "I think you should let her cool off for a week or so and visit Malfoy at the apothecary as many times as you want, to get him out of your system, then go back and apologise. Address her concerns and make sure she knows she has nothing to worry about. If she doesn't apologise for what she said about you destroying your marriage, address that matter as well. It's important that you talk about all of your concerns."

Oddly relieved that he now kind of has a plan of action, Harry sighs, nods and smiles. "Thanks, Rolf." He picks up his fork and begins to eat the food in front of him, feeling slightly less useless.

It won't be easy, but he thinks he might be able to rescue his and Ginny's marriage.

**

Two days of procrastinating at Rolf and Luna's house later, Harry hovers just around the corner from the entrance to the apothecary for over half an hour before he's worked himself up enough to actually walk in. Something is different this time, but he doesn't know what. His stomach is rolling with a weird twisty feeling, as if he's got butterflies, but this feeling 100 times more uncomfortable and overwhelming than he normally feels when he's just nervous.

He bites his lip and watches customer after customer come and go, entering empty handed and exiting with bags containing their purchases. The realisation of how busy the shop normally is dawns on him. Both of the previous times he'd been here, the shop had been fairly quiet, so he and Malfoy could talk. Well, they didn't really talk the first time, but the second time he was there, they awkwardly exchanged words and Harry found himself trying to yank a box of phials out from beneath the man's desk. He'd even found a smile creeping onto his face at one point, which was a shock.

Now, though, Harry decides to wait until the place quietens down. He doesn't quite know if he's just using it as an excuse to put off the inevitable, but he doesn't let himself think on it. By about 45 minutes after he'd first arrived and originally planned to enter, the place has become less crowded and there are only a few people lingering on the street, so he forces himself to get his shit together and go the hell inside.

The bell rings as Harry enters the shop, stepping out of the cold and into the warm. The place smells like chemicals, like it always does, but the scent of potions is mixed with a weird homely smell, sweet and Christmas-y like cinnamon pretzels. Harry glances quickly around the store and notices that it is, thankfully, empty. Then, his eyes instinctively search for Malfoy, and he is surprised to find that he is no where to be seen.

As if on cue, the tall door behind Malfoy's desk opens and Malfoy himself steps out of it, carrying a tray of phials full of ominous green liquid. He sets the tray down on the desk and Harry looks up from the phials, taking in the sight of Malfoy, his childhood rival. The sight that greets him draws a quiet, girlish gasp from Harry's mouth. He can't keep himself from blurting "You look-" but he stops himself before he continues.

"Awful? Yes, both my mother and Pansy have told me that several times over the last few days."

Harry is about to deny it when he realises that it's true. Malfoy _does_ look awful. His hair is, whilst still a stunning shade of blonde, a complete mess, his black robes are creased and his eyes are tired. It is completely possible that he hasn't slept a wink since Harry last saw him a few days ago. Somehow, in that time, he has gone from his usual I-look-like-I'm-20-but-I'm-really-closer-to-30 self to someone who looks like they're going through an extreme midlife crisis and is splitting up with their wife because of it. Harry gapes, blinks, and blurts, "No- I mean, you- What happened?"

Malfoy sighs, busying himself with fiddling with the phials of green liquid.. "Don't you read the papers?"

"No. I tend to avoid them." Harry says, wishing he'd taken a look at Rolf's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ earlier, because even if it was full of twisted and manipulated versions of the truth, at least he'd have a clue about what Malfoy was on about.

Malfoy presses his lips together, closing his eyes for a second, resigned. "My father is dead."

Harry almost gasps again but, fortunately, he catches himself at the last second. He finds himself at loss for words, so he doesn't say anything.

"I'm not sad that he's dead, of course." Malfoy says with a bitter laugh. "I mean, he was a piece of shit, he completely ruined our family, made life hell for my mother and I. But I haven't seen him in years, which hasn't bothered me, but suddenly I'll never be able see him again. He's dead."

A sick feeling of relief washes over him. At least he doesn't have to pretend to be upset or affected by Lucius Malfoy's death. "I won't say I'm sorry that he's dead, but I am sorry for your loss. I know what it feels like to lose a parent, even if I didn't know my parents before they died."

Malfoy nods and offers a small smile, looking up and meeting Harry's gaze. "Thanks." He says. Harry is struck by the fact that he thinks Malfoy's grey eyes are actually quite beautiful, despite what differences in opinion they may have had when they were at Hogwarts. They stand in silence, Harry's eyes fixed on Malfoy's tired ones, neither of them moving or saying anything. Suddenly, Malfoy looks away, his cheeks flushing a cute light pink and says "Now, you're here in my shop, so you must want to buy something. What can I get you, Potter?" And with that, whatever weird kind of moment of mutual understanding they just had was over.

"I- Uh-"

"Merlin, Potter, you haven't been rendered completely incompetent over the last few days, have you? What can I get you?" Malfoy says impatiently. 

"Just some Pepperup, thanks."

"Fine, I'll fetch you a phial. I won't be a minute, wait here." He says, turning and swishing out from behind his desk. He pushes past Harry and stalks off, disappearing between the isles of the shop, just like last time Harry was here, his black robes billowing behind him. He reminds Harry of Snape as he was before he'd died. Standing dumbly in the open space at the front of the shop, Harry is left staring at Malfoy's retreating back, blinking, wondering what the hell just happened. _Merlin's saggy arse_ , Harry thinks, confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should hopefully be up in 2 weeks!:)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I apologise for the lousy length of this chapter and the fact that it took me so long to post it. I've had a super busy few weeks, but I'll try and make the next chapter longer and of a better quality. As always, please don't hesitate to correct any of my dumb spelling mistakes and grammar errors. Although I am English, my English is actually rather terrible. Anyway, I hope you enjoy what I've written!

The oak door of Luna and Rolf's house slams open with a loud swoosh as Harry stumbles through it when arrives back from the apothecary. He'd made his purchases and awkwardly bade Malfoy goodbye, making a swift exit before things could become even weirder. His head throbs as he tries in vain to organise his mind, trying to sort out his confused thoughts. He can't figure out the reason behind Malfoy's odd behaviour and the sense of not knowing what it is makes him feel sick to the stomach with something he can't put his finger on. He groans, massaging his left temple with the tips of his fingers and shutting the door behind him in a more careful manor than the manor in which he had opened it. Grabbing the doorframe of the living room for support, Harry makes his way to the couch.

"Harry? Is that you?" Luna calls. Her tuneful voice comes from the direction of the kitchen.

Taking a seat next to the arm of the couch, Harry calls back "Yeah, it's me."

Harry shuts his eyes, massaging his temples with both hands now, trying to dull the ache in his head. His stomach rolls with an odd feeling, one that, added to the dreadful headache, makes him feel absolutely abysmal. He stifles another groan. "I'm just making a snack for me and Rolf, Harry, would you like a bacon sandwich? Or I've got these mini sausage rolls from the Muggle food store, if you'd prefer a few of them." says Luna from the kitchen. Harry distantly hears Rolf make a noise of delight at the mention of sausage rolls.

The thought of food in itself near enough makes Harry gag. He can't imagine eating anything right now, he'd scrape out his eyeballs before he consumes a bacon sandwich in the state he's in. However, he knows that Luna worries about him, so he can't not eat food without suspicion. "Uh, I'm alright Luna, I ate something on the way back from the apothecary." He fibs, a spike of guilt nagging at his already muddled mind.

"Oh, that's ok then. I'll just put the kettle on and Rolf and I will be right in."

The odd feeling in his stomach refuses to decrease and the unease he feels does not dissipate. He tells himself he'll feel better after he's had some tea and taken a nap. He hopes he is right, because he's worried he'll lose his mind if he continues to feel this awful.

After 5 minutes of complete agony on Harry's part, Luna and Rolf enter the living room, the latter levitating a tray of tea and 2 bacon sandwiches along with a platter of mini sausage rolls behind him. Harry swiftly flicks his gaze away from the food, afraid that if he looks at it for too long he'll keel over and vomit all over Luna and Rolf's lovely soft baby blue carpet and their huge expensive-looking mahogany coffee table. The both of them sit down, Luna occupying the big green arm chair and Rolf taking a seat on the couch next to Harry. Luna begins pouring the tea and sorting out a plate of food for Rolf, handing it to him.

"So," Begins Rolf, his words already muffled by a mouth full of sausage roll. "How did it go with Malfoy?"

Harry clears his throat, taking the cup of tea that Luna hands him. "Weird. It went weird."

Luna looks at him oddly. "Weird how?"

"I don't really know. He was acting strange. He looked a mess, for a start, which is, in itself, something out of the ordinary. He always looks so well groomed." Harry sips his tea to buy himself some time to will his headache to fuck the hell off. "And then there was this weird moment when he told me about his dad dying and I said that I knew how it felt to lose a parent, even if I didn't know mine. We were just looking at each other, you know. Then it got weird and he blushed and looked away then asked abruptly what I wanted to buy and disappeared to get it for me. I don't really understand it." Harry frowns and lowers his gaze to his tea cup, watching the liquid inside slosh around.

Neither Luna nor Rolf replies. When Harry looks up, Rolf looks like he'd be smiling knowingly if he wasn't so busy eating sausage rolls, and Luna is sipping her tea, tilting her head. She shares a look with her husband. Harry is confused. He squints at them both, trying to figure out what they're saying silently to each other, but his aching head pounds in protest.

"What?" Harry asks, mildly frustrated.

"Oh, it's nothing, Harry." Luna says, her serene smile returning to her face, replacing the wise, knowing look she'd had previously. "Draco is probably just acting the way he is because of his father's death. It's expected, really, isn't it? Greif changes oneself."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Harry a, taking another sip of his tea. "It was just incredibly uncomfortable and... weird."

"So, are you going back tomorrow?" asks Rolf.

Harry thinks about saying no, thinks about forgetting about Malfoy and going back to apologise to Ginny. In the end, he just sighs and says "Yes."

**

"Have you eaten? Are you warm enough?" asks Pansy for the 100th time. Draco sighs and rolls his eyes, wrapping his huge fluffy lime green blanket tighter around himself. "Do you want some more tea? I can firecall your mother, if you want, she can bring over that lemon stuff that you really like."

"Merlin's crusty arsehole, I'm fine! Pansy, honestly, I'm fine. I'm not dying. I'm not even ill." He insists, slapping her hands away when she ignores him and moves to adjust his blanket. She tuts and frowns down at him folding her arms over her chest. He glares straight back up at her from where he's completely covered in pillows and his giant obnoxious blanket on the couch.

"You might not be ill, Draco, but you've been through a lot recently and I just want to make sure you're ok-"

"I _am_ ok, though!" Draco snaps, looking at her with narrow eyes. "The only reason why I'm even using this blanket is because you put it on me."

"Well, I'm sorry for worrying about you, but you're my best friend, and it's my job to look after you when you can't properly look after yourself." Pansy says defensively, her eyes flashing with hurt. She stares right back at him, matching his sharp gaze with her own. Draco has to admit, her constant care over the last few days has been, whilst not totally necessary, quite very persistent. He would suggest she go into Healing if he didn't know that she was incapable of being civil, let alone caring, towards anyone who wasn't her friend.

Despite his annoyance at her overboard care, his eyes soften as he looks at his best friend, the one person who'd had the patience to visit him regularly over the last few days. He'd even managed to frighten his mother back to the manor with his short temper and irritable behaviour when she'd come to visit. Draco momentarily thinks of Potter, how he'd almost looked like he actually _cared_ about Draco's well being when he'd been in the shop today, but he banishes the thought before he can over-think it. "I know, Pansy, and I'm grateful for that. But it's just not necessary in this situation because I'm absolutely _fine_."

Pansy's expression melts into a softer one, a smile gracing her face. She plops down onto the couch next to him and drops her head to his shoulder. "I'm just worried, you know." She whispers. "You've been so tetchy lately and quieter than normal. It's like you've lost inspiration to find something petty to rant about. It worries me."

"Perhaps I should be concerned that you're worrying because I haven't ranted in a few days." Draco says, amused. A smile creeps onto his face, but droops just a second later. He sighs. "I'll be fine soon. I just need some time."

"I know you do. You have just lost a parent, after all."

It hits him once again that his father is dead. Draco doesn't like to think about it. He doesn't understand why it's affecting him so much, because well... He'd thought his father was really shitty, and he had said so himself. Somehow, though, the memories of the pleasant times he and his father had shared before Hogwarts are overclouding the memories of his father after the Dark Lord's return. It's this that is making his heart ache, the realisation that the man who he remembers from his early childhood is still the man who'd encouraged him to take the Dark Mark, the man who is dead. It hurts.

"Draco..." Pansy murmurs, noticing his change in mood.

"I just can't believe he's gone." Draco admits, trying to keep his voice from cracking. Pansy exhales sadly and turns in her seat, shuffling closer to him, trapping him in her embrace. This time, he doesn't reject the care, he just turns his face into her neck and cries.

**

To Draco's great surprise, Potter shows up again the next day. After their weird... moment the day before, Draco hadn't expected to see him again. He has to admit, he did make a fool of himself, losing all sense of awareness whilst staring into Potter's wonderful green eyes and forgetting where he was, who he was with. The feelings he'd felt in that moment were all over the place, a confused jumble of fondness and appreciation, and he doesn't understand why he had felt them and where they had come from. Potter had obviously been uncomfortable, Draco could tell from the way he'd said "Uh- well, erm- I guess I'll just be... Goodbye!" and thrust the coins to pay for the Pepperup Potion into Draco's hands before almost sprinting out of the door.

Now though, Potter shuffles through the door looking just as rumpled and tired as he always does, seeming completely normal. Nothing on his face looks out of place, he shows no signs that their encounter the previous day had left him feeling apprehensive about visiting the shop. Draco is surprised to see him back so soon, and yet, he is also, for some reason, quite... _relieved_.

"Potter?" He says suddenly, lips immediately clamping shut to stop himself from blurting 'you came back!' and completely scaring the man off.

Potter strides confidently up to where Draco is sitting in his purple swivel chair behind his desk. "Malfoy." He says, his expression unfamiliar to Draco. Despite the fact that he is, as usual, frowning, Potter looks almost _happy_ , but Draco decides that he must be mistaken. Potter is simply never happy, and there is no reason for today to be an exception. "You look a lot better than you did yesterday."

Staring at Potter incredulously, Draco examines his face for anything that can give him a reason to believe that this man isn't really Potter and is instead another person Polyjuiced into him, but finds nothing. It takes him a while to sort himself out and gather together enough mental stability to nod dumbly and say "Thank you. There's no doubt that it'll take me a while to recover completely, but I'm on my way, at least."

"Indeed." agrees Potter with a polite nod. "I apologise for leaving so abruptly yesterday, but I wasn't feeling all that well."

The apology takes Draco by surprise, but a pleasant feeling washes over him, anyway. He waves a dismissive hand. "That's ok. I trust that you're feeling better today, though?"

"Yes, I feel a lot better now, thanks."

"That's good." The civil conversation flowing between them is also alien, so much so that Draco briefly wonders if he'd woken up in some kind of alternate universe this morning. Everything is so extremely strange, so weird that even waking up in an alternate universe is a possibility he can seriously consider. "Now, Potter, what would you like to buy today, then?"

"Three more phials of Pepperup, please. And also some more Bruise Removal Paste." At Draco's odd look, Potter's lips twitch into an almost-smile. Draco considers it a success. "All of my children have decided to come down with a cold this week. And they're children, they quite enjoy play wresting with each other in the garden, so we go through the Bruise Removal Paste at the rate of knots."

"I see." Draco says with a sincere nod. With nothing left to say, he scrabbles for an easy escape. "Alright then, I'll be back in a minute." He says, sweeping out from behind his desk and fleeing for the safety of the isles of potions in which he can hide. Once he reaches a point that he knows is out of Potter's sight, he leans against an empty shelf, breathing heavily.

Draco can't handle Potter, he can't handle how the man makes him feel. He feels like he's a teenager again. It's so confusing and he doesn't understand it. Since he saw that first smile on Potter's face when he was wrestling the box of phials, Draco has found himself burning to see a smile on the man's face again. Seeing him happy is so rare that it makes Draco forget himself when witnessing it. It's so thrilling to think that he's been on the receiving end of that smile on a few occasions. Draco wonders if Potter's closest friends see the smile often, and, though he won't admit if asked in the future, he kind of hopes they don't.

Abruptly realising that he'd just admitted to wanting an exclusive place in Potter's life, Draco shakes himself. Merlin, what a stupid, ridiculous and outright _nonsensical_ thought! He's literally only spoken with Potter a handful of times since they'd originally first met after the trials and he's already way too obsessed with being acknowledged by the man. It's like first year all over again, and nope, Draco has no desire to be subjected to such embarrassment for a second time. He forces a steely expression onto his face and pushes away from the shelf, collecting Potter's potions and heading back to the front desk.

He finds Potter standing directly in front of Draco's desk, rifling through the phials on display. As Draco approaches, he sees that he appears to be putting them in colour order. Deep red, light red, pinkish, purple, lime green, bogey green, yellow-brown, then orange, and repeat. Immediately, the steely expression on Draco's face falters, softening with foreign fondness. "Potter? What are you doing?"

Potter startles and looks up. "Arranging your phials. They were in a right state before." He says, then looks back down and continues rearranging.

"Right." Draco says, nodding. He moves back around his desk so that he's standing behind the desk, directly in front of Potter. He puts Potter's Pepperup and Bruise Removal Paste on the desk, staring at Potter's nimble fingers as they fiddle with the phials. Draco tries not to smile. "Not that they were in order of potency before or anything."

Freezing, Potter looks up. "Oops." Then he looks back down at the colourful pattern of the phials of potion. "I bet you think I'm absolutely bonkers now."

Draco lets a smile creep onto his face, steely face now completely non-existent. "Not bonkers. Maybe a little mad. But, Potter, what would life be without a little madness?"

Potter smiles and looks down. Draco's heart metaphorically jumps completely out of his chest and flies to Australia. "You sound like Dumbledore." He says softly. Draco freezes, examining Potter's face for any sign of bitterness or resentment directed towards him, but all he can see is the wistful smile and slightly less dull green eyes.

"I don't know if I should be worried. That man was a lunatic, as much as he was wise."

Potter laughs softly. Draco's heart has metaphorically been around the world twice. "You're not wrong."

For a moment, Potter seems lost in thought. He looks down at the desk, staring at nothing in particular. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the smile is gone. He clears his throat and lifts his gaze to meet Draco's.

"I really must be off. How much will the potions be?"

"Um," Draco's muddled brain can't handle the abrupt change in mood, so it takes a while for the ability of addition to return to him. "One Galleon each for the Pepperup and three for the Bruise Paste... so that's six Galleons, please."

"Alright." says Potter, fishing some coins from his pocket and dropping them onto the desk in front of him. He picks up his potions, tucking them into the pocket of his robes, without waiting for Draco to offer him a bag. "I'll just be going then." He says with one last miniscule smile and a nod before he turns and sweeps out of the door, leaving a very confused and strangely besotted Draco in his wake.

Draco sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should hopefully be up in 2 weeks:) Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I'm so sorry it took me a million years to write this, but I've had no motivation to even get out of bed at all since the beginning of May, let alone actually do anything productive like write the next chapter of a story. I actually wrote it in only about 2 days, so it didn't take as long as I thought it would. I hope you enjoy it, anyway, as it is a little longer than any of my previous chapters.
> 
>  **Warnings:** A lot of shit happens in this so please hold on to your hats.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these characters except Meep the cat and Gladys the Scottish woman who knows everything, so all of the characters and ideas in this story that come from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling, of course.

"Draco." Pansy asks around a mouthful of chicken ball, a fierce frown plaguing her face, as they once again eat Chinese at the kitchen table. Draco doubts they'll ever eat anything else ever. "What's the matter? You were alright this morning."

Waving a dismissive hand, Draco shrugs, his eyes trained on his noodles as he shovels them into his mouth. "It's nothing. I'm perfectly fine."

Pansy looks at him sceptically. "Really." She says flatly. "So there's no reason why you've been moping around like a pining teenager all evening?"

"What? I'm not _moping_!" protests Draco, finally looking up from his noodles. "I don't _mope_."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

Draco hopes he can get away without having to say another word on the subject. He really doesn't want to have to talk to Pansy about Potter, despite the fact that she's the best and most reliable friend he has. He's just not ready to tell her that he's got some weird obsessive feelings towards his miserable school rival, who has been visiting Draco's shop regularly over the past few days, and every time Potter's there he leaves awkwardly and abruptly and Draco just wants to know why he's so unhappy and why he won't just relax around Draco and let him- 

-Oh Merlin, Draco doesn't know where the bloody hell these feelings have come from but he just doesn't know what he wants anymore. He sure as hell doesn't want to have to explain it to Pansy. In fact, he doesn't want to have to deal with it at all.

"Draco, come on, you're doing it again!" Pansy exclaims, practically slamming her fork down onto the table, sending a chicken ball flying from the table and onto the floor along with a half empty container of chicken chow mein, landing with a splat that makes Draco wince.

Draco groans in protest. "You're fucking cleaning that up, I swear to Merlin, Pansy! What the hell am I doing that caused you to fling your dinner across my kitchen?"

"You're moping and it's bloody depressing!"

"For fucks sake, I'm not moping!" Draco gazes mournfully at the ruined dish on the floor. "And you just wasted some perfectly good food because of something I'm not even doing."

Pansy sighs and seems to deflate. "I'm sorry, Draco, it's just that there's something you're not telling me and it's worrying me. Please, just tell me what's made you so boring tonight so I can punch someone and make you less mopey and more exciting."

"I've told you, it's nothing." Draco insists, wearily. He doesn't need this tonight, he doesn't need to be guilted into telling Pansy about Potter. But the down-trodden look that Pansy sends him then pushes him over the edge and there's no returning now. "Fine! Merlin, fine, just stop giving me that damned look!"

Pansy hides her satisfied smile by bringing her glass of wine to her lips and taking a long swig.

Glaring at her and pressing his lips together, Draco wonders where the bloody hell to start. "Well, a week ago, Potter showed up in my store."

At this, Pansy almost chokes on her wine. "Potter?!"

"Yes. Now shut up and let me speak." Pansy nods, reluctantly. Draco nods back and sips his wine, partly to annoy Pansy with the pause, and partly to buy himself some time to calm his thumping heart. "Potter showed up looking to buy some potions. He looked awful, like a midlife crisis personified. He showed up, bought some potions and left. Then he came back the next day, bought some more potions and left, and since then he's been coming back and buying potions and we've had a few moments and he just keeps leaving really abruptly and I want to know what's making him so sad and I've started feeling some things and I don't know what I want and I'm just really confused." He rambles, fumbling clumsily for the words to explain the situation. He knows that he does sound like a pining teenager now but he can't bring himself to be embarrassed. He hurriedly picks up his wine glass with shaking hands and starts taking long sips.

Pansy sits and looks at him with a calculating look, her lips still parted in surprise. She puts her wine glass down on the table and pops a chicken ball into her mouth, slowly eating. Once she has swallowed it, she says "Draco Malfoy, of all the bloody people to fall in love with, you just had to choose Harry Potter, didn't you?"

Draco actually chokes on his wine. "Well, I wouldn't quite call it love..." Splutters Draco. "I hardly bloody know him-"

"No. Draco. It is love." His best friend states slowly. "You are in love with Harry Potter."

Placing his wine glass on the table, Draco wipes a hand across his mouth, hands shaking. "I can't be-" He begins to protest. But, thinking about it, thinking about the way he feels whenever Potter smiles at him, he realises that she is right. "You're right."

Pansy nods sympathetically. 

"Shit." He says.

**

The shop is quiet. It's Tuesday morning and business is always frightfully slow at this time and it's the main reason why Draco hates Tuesdays, it's always so boring. He hates just sitting around and staring at the door, waiting for something exciting to happen. At this time he normally systematically works his way through the isles of the shop and makes sure all of the phials are in the right places, but today, he can't bring himself to do it. So, instead, he is sitting at his desk in his purple chair, staring at the door and wasting time, listening to the sound of a group of teenagers talking and smoking outside in the alley that runs down the side of his shop. Most of all, he is just feeling very sorry for himself.

He hasn't seen Potter since before he told Pansy about his weird obsessive feelings and the absence is making him feel the loss deeper than he'd like. He's annoyed with himself for relying on a man who doesn't even like him, let alone acknowledge him enough for anything even remotely romantic, or even friendly, to develop between them. But it's ok, he can handle not seeing Potter, he's not completely reliant on the man. He can just wait until the next time he comes into the shop in need of potions, and then he can observe how Potter acts around him and how he should try and win the man's friendship. He can wait until then.

Ok, Draco isn't going to lie, he really, really wants Potter to walk through the door right now, preferably smiling, his face the picture of happiness rather than the definition of a midlife crisis, walking confidently towards Draco with his eyes shining, opening his arms as if inviting him into a hug...

He's snapped out of his daydreams by the sound of the door opening and he looks up hopefully, praying that today is the day that his wish is to come true, only to be disappointed by the face of a regular customer at his shop, Gladys Sternwater, a Scottish woman in her late 50s with dark brown hair and an array of shockingly coloured blouses which she wears on a rota, of which today she is wearing her hot pink V-neck. She frowns at the sight of him, her customary smile slipping from her face. "You alright, hun? You look so annoyed to see me, it's sad to see that cute little smirk missing from your face."

"Sorry, Gladys, I'm just feeling a bit odd today." He apologises with a regretful smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Ah, I see." Gladys says, with a knowing grin. "Someone you were expecting? A special someone you've been hoping to come back and visit you?"

Draco blinks. "No." He lies, trying and failing to prevent the flush from rising onto his face.

Gladys hums a disbelieving hum. "You should just go to them instead of waiting for them to come to you." She says.

Draco almost laughs. It's not like he knows where Potter lives anyway, and even if he did, he could hardly just show up and declare his undying love for him, his former sworn enemy. "What can I do for you, Gladys?" He repeats.

The woman sighs, shaking her head in defeat. "A phial of sleeping draught, if you would, Draco."

Nodding, Draco says "Of course," and moves to fetch her a phial from the shelves, grateful for the diversion from his rather tragic crush. He sighs, relieved. Still, the weight of Potter's absence presses against him and he just wishes he would walk through the damned door so that Draco could try his hardest to make him smile.

**

Harry wakes up with the cold itch of dread settled in his stomach. He rolls over. _Please_ , he thinks, addressing the most generous god that exists out in the universe somewhere, _please don't make me face the day_. He's absolutely dreading it. He doesn't want to go back and talk to Ginny, he didn't want to reason with her. He does want to see his kids, though, so that is one thing that will come out of today. All of the other possibilities he can think of are not pleasant at all, and truly, he doesn't much want to face it.

He'd spent the past few days laying around in Luna and Rolf's living room, brooding and watching _The Lord of the Rings_ with Rolf and cuddling with Luna's cat Meep, a brown and black tortoiseshell cat, who had recently returned from her regular mysterious travels in which nobody knows where she disappears to for a few weeks. She could be a mainstream drug dealer in the cat underworld for all they know, apparently, which is worrying, but also mildly amusing. However, she is a very good cuddler, which very much makes up for any crimes she could potentially be committing in her free time.

Now, though, he knows that really he's spent too long at Luna and Rolf's house, so it's time to settle things with Ginny. Today, he had decided on a whim last night, he would go back to the house and talk to Ginny.

Reluctantly, he throws the covers off of himself and gets out of bed, planning on showering for a long time in an attempt to put everything off, but in the end making it quick once he realises that it isn't his water bill he'd be extending ridiculously. He gets dressed and wanders slowly down the stairs, making sure to dawdle and stop to pet Meep unnecessarily for 10 minutes. Then, once he gets to the kitchen, he finds Rolf at the table with his customary newspaper in his hands. "Morning, Rolf." He says. "You'll be rid of me today, I'm off to settle things with Ginny."

Rolf looks up and smiles sympathetically. "Morning. Good luck with the wife, mate. You're welcome to stay here if she chucks you out, until you find a property of your own."

Harry winces at the thought of it, the divorce process, the rows with Ginny over the kids, having to _tell_ the kids that they're splitting up, having to live alone in an empty house. He prays to the most generous god for the second time that morning, asking for the best outcome possible to come of today.

"Oops. Maybe I shouldn't have said that." Rolf says, regretfully, making a face. "I'm sure it'll be ok. Here, have some cocopops." He says offering him the box.

Harry has some cocopops.

**

When Ginny's face pops up in the fire, her face is unreadable. For a moment, neither of them say anything, they just stare at each other through the floo connection, wondering what there is to say. Then, Ginny says "You coming through?" and her face disappears before he can answer. Harry draws in a deep breath and pulls back, standing up. He glances back quickly at Meep who is sitting on the sofa, watching him. She blinks owlishly and meows in farewell. "Wish me luck, Meep. I'm going to need it." He mutters, then turns away so that he can step through the flames.

When he stumbles through the floo and onto the blue rug on the hearth in the drawing room, Ginny is standing with her arms crossed, her lips drawn into a thin line. He straightens, brushing the ash from his brown robes. "Where are the kids?" He asks.

"With Ron and Hermione. Again. We're going to sort this out before you see them."

"You're right. Then let's sort this out."

Harry doesn't know what he's expecting, he hasn't seen her since the biggest fight they've ever had as a couple, so it's obviously going to be awkward. But Ginny doesn't stutter and apologise, doesn't ask him to say he's sorry too or tell him that she wants them to work hard to fix their marriage, she merely looks at him and says "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry blinks at her. What does _he_ have to say for himself? He had known that Ginny wasn't going to be easy to reason with, but he didn't think that she would think herself completely blameless in the situation. She had accused him of so many wild and untrue things and here she is pressuring him to apologise for them? Like hell he's going to do that! She can think again! "You want me to apologise?" He asks her, and Ginny raises her eyebrows. "Well, no."

She jerks backwards as if she'd been slapped. "No?"

"What do you want me to apologise for?" Harry exclaims, his voice rising in volume against his will. He had been so sure that he could keep himself civil, but she's being ridiculous. "Being angry when you accused me of neglecting my children and destroying our marriage?"

"No, Harry!" Ginny almost yells back at him. "I want you to apologise for fucking off for the week and leaving your kids wondering why you'd disappeared! What were you doing at Luna and Rolf's all week, huh? Going out every day to see Malfoy? Fucking him silly until you could get him out of your system?"

"The reason why I fucked off was exactly this, Ginny! You were attacking me with these bloody ridiculous accusations at every turn and I couldn't handle it anymore! I don't know what you want! If you really believe that I'm fucking Draco Malfoy, then fine, believe that, but just tell me this. Can you trust me to be faithful, because I am, or do you want to split up, so that I can go and live in another house and continue to not fuck Malfoy?"

For a moment, a silence falls between them, only the sound of heavy breathing echoing through the drawing room. Ginny's eyes are shining, as if she's trying not to cry. Harry's heart is racing, his mind is just a jumble of disbelief that this is even taking place and washes of dread are flowing over him. This might be the end of their marriage. The end of years together, the end of a companionship. Harry refuses to think about what it could do to the kids. A shit tonne is riding on her answer. "Harry." Ginny whispers. "I believe that you aren't fucking Malfoy. I know that you've been seeing him at the apothecary quite a bit recently but I know you aren't fucking him, I just thought... I just thought that you'd have realised by now."

"Realised what?" Harry asks, confused.

"Realised that you're in love with Malfoy." Says Ginny with a sad smile. A few tears have escaped now, but she wipes them away hurriedly.

"In love with Malfoy?!" Harry yelps incredulously. "I've told you before, I'm not in love with-"

"Shut up! Just shut up, I want you to listen to what I have to say, then I want you to nod politely and leave. Then, I want you to go back to Rolf and Luna's and ask them what I mean by "in love with Malfoy", ok? Ask them for their opinion."

"But-"

Ginny hold up a stern hand to silence him. "I can't be married to you when I know that anytime soon you'll cop off with Malfoy and leave me, anyway. We should split up, with equal rights to the kids, 2 weeks with me, 2 weeks with you until they leave for Hogwarts. It'd be best for you to get your own place within a few weeks, so that we can sort things out with the solicitor and get the divorce. Until then, you can stay with Rolf and Luna, I'm sure they won't mind. But this is my house, we both agreed to register it under my name when mum and dad helped us with the Muggle paperwork we had to fill out to buy it, and I'm going to carry on living here. You'll have to move out. Now, off you go, back to Luna and Rolf's."

Harry, his brain still frazzled from everything, nods. Ginny looks tired, her eyes drooping, as if she can't wait for him to leave. She motions to the fireplace. "When can I see the kids?" Harry asks before he leaves.

"You can come over on Friday and stay for the weekend. You'll be sleeping in the spare room, though. We can tell the kids and discuss what we're going to do from there."

With a final nod, Harry turns and steps into the fireplace with a handful of floo powder, saying the name of Rolf and Luna's house. As the flames begin to whisk him away, he gets a final glimpse of Ginny's face, and she looks only too relieved to see him go.

**

Luna doesn't look surprised to see him when he tumbles out of the floo into her living room, startling Meep from her position next to the hearth. "Hello, Harry." She says with a smile. "Will you be staying with us for a little while longer?"

"I'm afraid I might have to, Luna, if that's ok with you." Harry says regretfully. "Things didn't go too well with Ginny."

"Let me just get Rolf, and then you can tell us all about it." Luna says before she turns and disappears upstairs. Harry plops himself onto the couch to wait for her return, smiling as Meep jumps up to sit next to him. The cat looks up at him questioningly, her green eyes wide and her ears twitching. She pats his arm with her paw until he lifts a hand to stroke her head and scratch her behind the ears.

Soon enough, Luna returns to the living room with Rolf in tow, and they both take a seat, Rolf on the arm chair and Luna on the couch next to Harry. Rolf rolls his eyes fondly at Meep, who is purring and preening with happiness under Harry's attention. "That cat loves you more than us, mate, and we've been feeding her expensive cat food for 3 years."

Harry laughs softly and says "She just likes that I don't mind petting her every minute of the day."

Rolf hums and looks at Luna, who gives him a meaningful look, which he obviously understands, as then his expression turns serious. "What happened with Ginny?"

Harry sighs and takes a deep breath, proceeding to explain the argument to them both. How there'd been a lot of shouting and not a lot of apologising. When he is finished, Rolf looks at him sadly and Luna puts a hand on his upper arm and says "Oh, Harry."

"Then she told me to ask you what she meant by "in love with Malfoy" so that you can tell me your opinion. You don't agree with her about that, do you?" He asks. Rolf makes a surprised noise and looks away awkwardly, suddenly very interested in the shelf of books on the wall to his left, and Luna looks at the ceiling, her lips pressed into a line which suggest she might be trying not to smile. "You do agree, don't you." Harry groans, deflated. "I just don't understand! Why does everyone think that?"

"Because you find him interesting enough to buy potions you don't need just to speak to him. And he's not unattractive, you know that. He's actually quite beautiful." Luna tells him, softly. Harry closes his eyes tight and sees stormy grey eyes, a lifetime of struggle hidden beneath their surface, and a teasing smile and blonde hair that looks good all the time, even looked good when Harry had seen it in a rumpled state. Luna is right he really is quite beautiful. Harry's head swims with confusion, struggling to absorb the new information. It's like a block has been removed from his mind.

"No." Harry insists, eyes snapping open. Meep meows at him, annoyed that he's stopped petting her, and leaps down from the sofa to sit at Luna's feet. "No! I'm _not_ in love with Malfoy! How could I be? He was a complete twat at school, I hated him, I can't have just suddenly fallen in love with the bloke! That's impossible!" He doesn't know who he's trying to convince. Himself, mostly. "I don't even like _men_!" It's a lie, he knows that. The thought of a flat chest and a big thick dick, makes him want to yank down his pants and wank himself dry. The thought of Draco's dick-

 _Nope! No thoughts of Malfoy's dick, thank you!_ Harry stands, outraged with himself, sweat coating his forehead with the stress of everything, and walks out of the living room, ignoring Luna's voice saying his name and Rolf asking him what's wrong, jogging up the stairs and into the room he's staying in, shutting the door behind him. 

He sighs and falls back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. His eyes sting with tears that threaten to spill. Harry has never felt as helpless as he does now, without a clue what the world wants from him. So, he just rolls over and falls asleep. He'll deal with it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meep the cat is based very loosely on my cat Daisy, except Meep is a lot more friendly than Daisy as my cat will scratch your eyes out if you try to cuddle her.
> 
> Next chapter should be up in a few weeks, depending on how productive I'm feeling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for yet another long wait, I've had a lot of exams these past few weeks so things have been really busy for me recently. I'd originally planned to post this chapter last Sunday, and I even had it all written by Saturday, but I honestly didn't have time to edit it myself and read it through for mistakes. I'm not particularly happy with it, but I just wanna get it out in the world so that I can start the next chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, this one is a lot longer than any of the other chapters, so I hope you enjoy it!:) As always, please let me know if you spot any mistakes because, despite the fact that I am English myself, I'm actually very crap at English.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these characters except Meep the cat and Gladys the Scottish woman who knows everything, so all of the characters and ideas in this story that come from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling, of course.

"What the hell is that?” Harry asks Ginny incredulously, perhaps a bit too loudly, frowning at the drink the barista had set on the countertop next to his cappuccino. The man behind the counter shoots him an annoyed look and Ginny whacks his arm, snatching their drinks from the counter with a thankful, maybe apologetic, nod towards the employees. She flicks her bright red hair at him as she turns and stalks away towards their table, without looking back to check if he’s following. Harry follows, obediently taking his seat opposite her.

“For Merlin’s sake, Harry,” Ginny hisses, sliding his drink across to him with unnecessary force, causing the liquid to slosh over the brim of the cup and spill onto the table. “You can’t just say that in Starbucks, you complete idiot! Goodness, this is why I can’t take you outside. Ever. And in answer to your question, it is a large caramel frappuccino with coffee and cream and it is worth more than your entire outfit.”

Harry looks down at his Muggle jeans and t shirt, which were admittedly only a pound each, complete with a pair of worn 99p store flip-flops. He sighs. “This outfit was a _bargain_.” He protests weakly.

“Exactly.” Ginny rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why price matters to you, it’s not like you haven’t got the funds to splash out. You could really look like a man with money, if you tried wearing something other than bog standard robes and cheap Muggle crap-”

Resigned, Harry holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, enough about my clearly abysmal clothing choices, let’s talk about what we came here to talk about.”

Ginny sighs, and Harry knows that she’d rather just put it off forever. They’d decided to meet up to discuss how they were going to go about filing their divorce, and what they wanted to do from this point onwards. It was probably for the best that they decided to meet on neutral grounds, in public, surrounded by Muggles where they weren’t able to hex each other and/or accuse each other of fucking their archenemies.

Though, to be fair, Ginny had been quite reasonable since their last encounter. As she had promised, Harry had been able to see the children at the weekend, and Ginny had even left him alone with them for the whole 2 days. Beforehand, Ginny had made him swear not to tell them anything about their plans to separate, made him promise that they could tell them together. Despite the fact that they had been confused as to why he couldn’t come back and live with them for good, they just seemed happy to have him to themselves for the few days that they could. Harry answered as many of their endless questions as he was able to without telling them too much. James, as the eldest, doubtlessly had some kind of clue as to what was going on, but he didn’t say anything, just kept shooting Harry suspicious glances. Overall, Harry counted it a success.

Now, on the Wednesday following his weekend with the children, Harry looks at Ginny with regretful eyes and says “We have to speak about it at some point, you know.”

“I know.” Ginny agrees softly. Then, looking at his wife of several years, his true Hogwarts sweetheart, the mother of his 3 beautiful children, Harry feels a pang of regret that their marriage has turned out like this. He wishes, in this moment, that it had somehow turned out differently, that he could have been a better husband, a better father. Then, as if reading his mind, Ginny decides to bring up the cause of the situation. “So, have you been to see Malfoy recently?”

Harry’s stomach rolls with nausea as he is reminded of the way he has been feeling every night when he lays in bed in the silence of Luna and Rolf’s sleeping household, with no choice but to analyse every second of every encounter he has had with Malfoy since the trials, no choice but to stew in the feeling of helplessness he is subjected to as he tries to escape the endless hole he is falling down with every second he spends thinking about the beautiful, intelligent and fragile mystery that is Draco Malfoy. “No.” Harry states, firmly. “So about the divorce-“

“Harry, you know that it isn’t just going to go away if you simply choose ignore it. That isn’t how it works-“

“And that isn’t what we came here to talk about.” Harry says sharply. Ginny looks at him, her eyes pitiful and sad. “I will go and see him if I want to, and right now, I don’t want to. So. The divorce.”

It looks as if Ginny is about to say something else but then she seems to decide against it, instead just shaking her head and taking a long gulp of her frappuccino. Harry looks down at his own coffee, forgotten on the table in front of him. He’s afraid that if he drinks it now, his stomach will revolt, so instead he looks up at Ginny, waiting for her to reply. “The divorce.” She agrees. Her shoulder’s square, her back straightening then relaxing as if she’s preparing herself. “Ready to talk business?”

 _No_ , Harry thinks, but doesn’t voice this thought. Instead, he says, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

**

The odd feeling of déjà vu hits Harry suddenly as he stumbles out of the Floo into the drawing room of their – well, just Ginny’s – house. Ginny is once again standing alone to greet him, her arms folded, only a less severe expression etched into her face. This feeling disappears entirely when Lily runs into the room, probably having heard the whoosh of the fire as he’d entered. Her tiny 3 year old body only comes up to his thigh as she hugs his leg, squealing “Daddy, Daddy!”, her voice muffled by the fabric of his jeans. He laughs lightly and bends down to hug her, enveloping her in his arms.

Once her squeals have died down, he places his hands on her shoulders and gently pushes her backwards, holding her at arm’s length and looking seriously into her tiny round eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, Flower!” He exclaims, smiling as she giggles, pleased by his use of her nickname. “But can you please go and fetch your brothers and tell them to come with you to meet me and your mum in the kitchen in a minute?”

Lily looks back at him with a gaze just as serious as the one he had looked at her with a moment ago. “Sure, Daddy.” she says, quieter now, then wriggles free of his arms and skips from the room, presumably to do what he had asked her.

He stands, turning to look at Ginny. She is watching him with a strange little smile, her eyes soft, sad, full of the same regret that he is currently feeling. “Shall we?” She says, motioning to the doorway leading out into the hallway.

Harry nods. When they were in Starbucks 2 days previous, they had agreed on telling the kids as soon as they could. Ginny had told him that she wanted to know what they wanted, who they wanted to stay with, rather than just forcing an alternating 2 week period on them. “It isn’t fair on them, Harry. Don’t you agree?” she had said quietly, and Harry had said that of course he agreed, and asked if Friday was alright for him to come over. Ginny had checked her tiny purple pocket diary and finally said yes. She had agreed to let him stay the night in the spare bedroom, so that the following day they could fill out the first papers they needed to send to the Ministry.

Now, they wait for their children to meet them, sitting side by side at the small table of their kitchen. Harry's stomach flips at regular intervals, his hands are resting on the surface of the table in front of him, clenching and unclenching in an unsteady rhythm. He twines them together, halting their movement, in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He is more nervous than he has ever been before. Looking sideways at Ginny, he notes that her leg is bouncing up and down and her eyes are clamped shut, and Harry takes comfort in the fact that he isn't wandering blind into this situation alone.

"Dad!" Comes a voice from the doorway, and Harry turns to see James standing at the entrance to the kitchen, his little sister clinging onto his hand, and Albus standing at his side. There is a fierce smile on his face, one that quickly fades once he sees his father's sombre expression. Harry tries to push a smile onto his features, but he knows the effort is futile and he probably looks more in pain than pleased. "Dad?" Al says, confused.

"Hi, boys!" Harry says as enthusiastically as he can.

"How long are you staying? Are you back for good?"

"Just the night, Al. I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon." Harry says softly, regretfully. Al and Lily sigh, as if they expected that answer but wanted to hear a different one. He does wish he could stay longer, wishes he could spend more time with his children. "Do you want to take a seat? Your mother and I have to talk to you all."

James fixes him with a suspicious stare, much like the one he'd continuously subjected him to during their weekend together, his lips pressed together so tightly that they're barely a thin line on his face. Al just looks confused. James bends down to pick Lily up and crosses the room to place her in the chair at the head of the table, Al following slowly, then James sits down beside her, opposite Ginny, and Al takes the seat beside his brother, opposite Harry.

"So." Ginny says. "Some things have happened over the last week or so, as you might have suspected. Your dad and I had a couple of fights, a couple of big fights, and neither of us are happy anymore." Ginny closes her eyes and turns her head away.

No one speaks. Harry struggles to pick up where she left off. "We haven't been happy for years, really. It's just taken us a while to realise it, and the arguments we had recently were the first real conflicts we've had as a couple, which isn't good, because we've been together for a long time. And, well, now that I went away for a bit, we've both experienced what it's like to live apart from each other, and we have come to the conclusion that we'd be happier separated."

Lily squirms in her seat, hiccupping loudly as she looks up at him, her innocent, 3 year old eyes full of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"It means that we're getting a divorce, Flower. Like Charlotte's mum and dad."

The silence that falls over the room is rather unnerving, Lily isn't making any noises, just sitting with her eyes wide and her mouth open slightly, frozen. James is looking at no one, only staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes, his lips pressed even tighter than Harry knew was possible, and Albus...

Well, Al looks just about ready to burst. The boy stands, his chair scraping backwards with the loud screech of metal legs against tiled flooring. "So, who was it then?" He yells, his wobbling voice splitting the silence of the kitchen in half. "Which one of you cheated, which one of you did it?"

"Albus, it isn't like that-"

"Don't say that!" Al shouts with a choked sob. Tears leak from his eyes, now, and he lifts his hands, curled into fists, to wipe furiously at the droplets before they can drip from his face. Lily whimpers, displeased by the shouting, and climbs into Ginny's lap. "Just don't _lie_ to us! If you're going to split up, you might as well tell us why!"

"Because we're unhappy and we don't want to be together anymore." Ginny says plainly. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her whimpering daughter, her face screwed up in pain and regret, regret that her son is so upset by something which is partially her fault. "We just don't love each other-" 

"You don't love each other anymore, so how can we be sure that you'll always love us?" Al sobs, quieter now, his hoarse voice little above a whisper. "How can we be sure that in the future you won't just decide that you don't love us anymore."

Harry stands suddenly, shaking his head so fiercely that his vision blurs for a moment, and takes hold of his son's shoulders across the table. "Al, you don't understand. Your mother and I still love each other, we're just not _in love_ with each other now. We love each other like you and James love each other, and like you both love your sister. We will never stop loving you three, you're our children, and there will never be a day when we don't love you all so much that our hearts ache with the force of it."

Albus, silent now, slips out 0f Harry's grasp and sinks back into his chair. Harry takes this as a signal to take his own seat again. Al's eyes are red, and the tears haven't stopped falling, and Harry's heart aches at the sight of his son's misery.

"I knew it." James says from the other end of the table, so quietly that Harry barely hears it. Ginny looks at him in surprise. "It was so obvious. And, if you're looking for my opinion, I'd rather you both be divorced and happy than together and absolutely sodding miserable, like you've both been over the last year. I take it you're moving out then, Dad, so if you'd please find a place with a huge bedroom that I can have, then I'm fine with it. I'll be in my room." And with those few cryptic sentences, James stands and leaves the room.

Harry almost laughs. "Alright, then." He says to the doorway that his eldest son had disappeared through, even though he knows that James can't have heard.

"Me, too. I'd like a nice room." Al says, quietly. Ginny does laugh, then, though it's more of a sharp bark of wobbly noise than a sound of amusement.

Harry smiles at him. "Of course, you'll all have the nicest rooms in the house."

"Good." Albus says with a tiny, rather watery smile. He wipes his puffy eyes for the last time and sniffs harshly, no longer crying. "Bye, then. See you in the morning." He says, standing then and exiting the room, leaving just Harry, Ginny and Lily remaining.

"Mummy." Lily says suddenly, looking up at Ginny from her position in her mum's lap. "Who's Drake Malfoy?"

Harry swears he almost falls out of his chair. Fortunately, he doesn't, instead he just jolts so harshly that his chair scrapes across the kitchen tiles, his heart leaping and accelerating so fast that he can barely breathe for a few moments. "What?" He croaks, looking towards Ginny who looks just as startled as he feels.

Ginny, seemingly much calmer than him, handles the situation better than he ever could have. "Nobody, honey." She assures her daughter, bouncing her gently on her knee. "Just somebody your dad and I used to know. Where did you hear about him?"

"When you were arguing downstairs when we were in bed. I was scared, and Jamesy had his door locked and he didn't wake when I knocked. I went to the top of the stairs to see if I could hear what you were saying. I didn't hear much. I did hear you say the name Drake Malfoy a lot." Lily says, frowning. "Are you ok, daddy?" She asks, concerned, seeing that Harry had gone pale and stiff as he anxiously listened and tried to decipher if she knew anything important about what he and Ginny had argued about.

"I'm fine, Flower." He assures her. "Drake Malfoy is no one you need to worry about, Pet, so there's no need to mention anything to your brothers."

"Oh." Lily says, nodding in understanding. "Ok." And with that, she hops down from Ginny's lap and runs from the room, mumbling something to herself about books and princesses.

Harry sighs, relieved, but doesn't feel like any weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Ginny sighs, almost in answer to his own exhale, and shrugs, saying "Glad that's over." before she, too, exits the room, leaving a very off-balanced Harry Potter in her wake.

**

"Right. Kids." Ginny is saying as Harry enters the kitchen in the morning, wiping eyes with the backs of his hands. "When your dad comes downstairs, we need to talk about-"

"Uhm." Grunts Harry from the doorway, making himself known with a loud morning yawn. "He's right here, so we can now." Ginny looks up in surprise, Lily smiles at him from where she is sitting in James' lap and both of Harry's sons nod at him in greeting at almost exactly the same time, practically in sync. Harry tries not to smile and takes a seat at the head of their small kitchen table. "What were you saying?" He says to Ginny.

"I was just telling the kids that we need to talk about who they'd prefer to stay with."

"Why do we need to chose?" Demands Lily. "Can't we just live together even if you both don't stay in the same room?"

"Lily, it'd be best for your dad if he got his own place. We're not saying that you have to chose only one of us to stay with. Actually, we thought that we could rotate on a 2 week system, where you stay here with me for 2 weeks, then go and stay with your dad for 2 weeks. For you, James, it'll obviously only be during the holidays that you need to rotate between parents. Is this ok with everyone?"

Slowly, one by one, each child nods. Lily gets a little sniffly, but doesn't protest, just climbs off of James' lap and hoists herself into Harry's instead. Harry wraps an arm around his daughter, smiling a little sadly. She presses her face into the fabric of his worn dark green dressing gown.

Ginny nods slowly, casting her eyes down to the thick pile of papers in her hands, flicking through them warily. Harry can tell that she's thinking about how long this process is going to take, about how she cannot wait until its over. Harry's thoughts mirror these exactly. He bites back a groan of distress and grabs his bowl from the centre of the table, then the box of cocopops and carton of milk beside it, pouring himself a bowl and sprinkling a handful of sugar on top of the cereal.

Well, if he cannot escape the task of filling out so many papers, then he may as well fill them out on a sugar rush.

**

Later, as he watches Finn, the family owl, fly shakily into the distance, the thick envelope full of completely filled out ministry papers clutched in his claws, Harry feels lighter than he has felt in a long time. He knows that this is only the start of the divorce process, that there's still a long way to go, but it still feels wonderful to know that it's been started. He smiles.

**

Draco glares at the clock, silently swearing that if closing time doesn't roll up sooner, he will rip the damn thing down from the wall and destroy the stupid contraption. It's a magical clock, of course, one that Pansy bought for him as a Christmas gift and it's charmed to tick loudly all day and sing annoyingly at closing time. Usually, upon hearing it, he rolls his eyes, but today, he honestly cannot wait to hear its irritating song.

Ripping his eyes away from the clock's slow moving hands, Draco sucks in a long, deep breath and pushes it out slowly. "One hour, Draco." He whispers to himself. "You can make it through another hour."

His gaze eventually drifts to the curved windows at the front of the shop, his eyes scanning through the crowds of people bustling down the road, observing all of the tired faces that pass. There are a lot of people elbowing their way through the crowds, dressed in pressed suits and pencil skirts, their annoyed faces determined. _Most likely on their way home from work_ , Draco thinks bitterly, imagining all of those who only have a few minutes to wait until they arrive home and can collapse onto their bed and watch the television. He sighs and scolds himself for his mindless jealousy.

Another torturous half an hour passes, during which a few people pop into the store to collect headache potions and other standard bits and bobs. They don't say thanks, or speak to him in anyway, which Draco is glad for because he doesn't think he can manage polite conversation at this point. He merely tells them the price and they pay him, nod and leave. He doesn't wish anyone a good evening because he knows that his own evening is going to suck, and why should any of these miserable sods have a good evening whilst he doesn't? He sighs and goes back to staring out of the window, observing the people once more from a distant point of view, definitely not searching the crowd for a mop of jet black hair and a flash of emerald green eyes...

Well, it's been weeks since Potter's last visit, and, as you may have guessed, it's setting Draco on edge. Every moment he spends in the blasted store, he spends wondering if today is going to be the day that Potter finally turns up again. He knows his hope is futile, and that Potter has probably forgotten all about Draco, but he can't help but pray that maybe, just maybe, he hasn't.

Shaking his head, Draco fears terribly for his own sanity.

There's only five minutes to go until closing time when the bell on the door rings, signalling the entrance of another customer. Before he looks up to greet them, Draco closes his eyes and gathers all of the strength that remains within him, willing himself not to shout at the person to get out and leave him the hell alone because he's _really fucking tired_ right now and he deserves a fucking break.

The customer clears their throat.

At last, Draco looks up to see none other than Harry Potter standing in the doorway, having shown up exactly on cue. Draco's heart soars because damn, he looks fucking fantastic. Draco blinks once, long and hard, almost going as far as pinching himself to check he isn't dreaming. Unlike the other times Draco had seen the man, Potter's entire face is bright, the dark circles that are usually beneath his eyes are missing and he looks like he's actually slept a bit in the last few days. He isn't wearing robes today, instead he wears a deep blue button up shirt and a pair of tight black jeans. Draco accidentally admires his arse for several seconds. When he catches himself, he quickly rips his eyes away from Potter's round, firm-looking hind quarters and back to his face before he's caught staring. The sight of those lovely green eyes watching him warily makes Draco's heart stop.

"God is real." Whispers Draco incredulously, before realising he'd just voiced that thought aloud. For a moment, he worries that Potter heard him, even from where he's lurking meters away, still near the doorway, but luckily, he doesn't seem to be affected. He just strides forward to the desk to greet Draco.

"Hello, Malfoy." Potter says with a small smile that makes Draco's heart turn to mush inside his chest. "You alright? You look a bit pale."

"I always look a bit pale." Draco deflects easily. Despite the save, his lips seem to be pretty loose today, and he just throws himself back in the deep end. "You look good." He blurts before he can stop himself. "I mean, you look healthy and... like, not tired, you know?"

"Yeah?" Potter says. "It's probably because I've been sleeping a lot better recently, I've actually been sleeping all the way through the night without waking up at all. My wife and I are divorcing, you see."

"Oh!" Draco gasps, unintentionally. He clears is throat. "You've been together since Hogwarts, right?" Potter nods sadly. "Well, um, I'm sorry I guess." Draco isn't sorry at all. To be honest, he'd forgotten about Ginevra, but at least now she's out of the way even if he hadn't realised that she'd been an obstacle in the first place.

"It's alright, we haven't been happy for a while. It'll be a long process, but we know it'll be worth it in the end. Both of us feel a lot better separated, and we'll both have equal rights to the kids, anyway, so it'll be nice."

"That's good." Draco says earnestly. "I'm glad you've found a way to make yourself happier, Potter."

For a moment, the man is silent. He presses his lips together and looks to the side, his jaw clenched, the muscle at the side of his face twitching in a way that Draco shouldn't find sexy but does anyway. Draco watches him curiously, frowning, his eyes locked on the twitchy jaw muscle.

"Potter? Are you ok?"

Eyes snapping back to Draco's face, Potter nods shakily. "Uh, Draco I was wondering-" He begins, but is interrupted by the stupid bloody clock's stupid bloody song.

" _Listen, my friend,_  
_The day has come to an end,_  
_It's time to go home,_  
_And free your garden of gnomes,_  
_Please get the hell out,_  
_Don't make Draco shout,_  
_Get a move on,_  
_And I'll end this stupid song._ " sings the clock, signalling closing time. 

_Nice fucking timing,_ Draco thinks, resisting the urge to cover his face with his hands in embarrassment. Instead, he just looks at Potter with wide eyes, a flush covering his face. Potter looks back at him, clearly amused.

"Sorry." Draco apologises. "Pansy bought me that clock. It sings at closing time." Draco shakes his head. "It's awful, the songs it sings have varying amounts of syllables in each line and the stupid clock tries to rhyme words with other words that don't rhyme. Like "on" and "song" obviously don't rhyme and "home" doesn't rhyme with "gnomes" at all. Bloody awful."

At this, Potter laughs a loud, cheerful laugh that again makes Draco simultaneously want to kiss Potter on the mouth, cuddle him in his bed and also turn to bend over the desk and beg him to fuck his brains out, all at once. "Maybe you should write it some better songs." Potter suggests.

Draco can't help but smile widely. "Maybe I should. Anything would be better than listening to those ghastly half rhymes." Then, Draco remembers what Potter had been saying before the clock had interrupted them. "What was it you were saying before the clock started singing? You said you were wondering something-"

Suddenly, Draco realises that Potter had also called him by his first name.

Draco's cheeks fill with an overwhelming warmth, and he ducks his head in an attempt to hide it. He instantly wants to hear Potter say it again.

"Nothing." Potter mutters, turning his face away again. Draco narrows his eyes suspiciously.

"You were saying something, though-"

"It doesn't matter." Potter growls. 

Draco jerks backwards. He isn't sure why he's so surprised by the venom in Potter's tone, it's not like it's the first time they've shouted the odds at each other, and, well, they were enemies at Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake! Goodness, Draco needs to get a hold of himself. He can't go around handing his happiness out to the first cute guy who smiles at him. Malfoys don't put themselves in such vulnerable positions, it's just not smart at all. So, wiping the hurt look off of his face, Draco sighs, as if in irritation, and shoots Potter the best "do you know who you're talking to?" look he can muster. 

"Sorry, Malfoy. I didn't mean to shout. The divorce process has been messing with me, all the stress gives me ridiculous mood swings, I- I'm sorry." Potter apologises, his face transforming from an annoyed frown to a concerned frown. "If you're supposed to be closing up right now, I suppose I'd better get out of your way. Uh- could I get a phial of Dreamless Sleep? Just one for me tonight."

Nodding reluctantly, Draco turns to pluck one off of the shelf behind him. "Two Galleons." He says. 

Potter hands him the money and bids him goodbye quietly after apologising for his earlier outburst again. Draco dismisses his apologises with a swish of his hand, saying "I've had worse in my shop." before Potter nods, smiles a little sadly, and turns to leave.

It's only then, as he's staring at Potter's retreating form, that he realises Potter had bought a phial of Dreamless Sleep, even though he said he'd been having no trouble sleeping recently. Draco frowns.

**

Harry doesn't realise that he's just told Malfoy about his and Ginny's divorce before they'd even had the chance to tell the rest of the Weasleys until he's standing, half naked, in the middle of his room in Luna and Rolf's house. "Fuck." Harry swears, staring blankly at the floor in front of him. "Does that mean I trust him?"

For a few seconds, Harry stands in that position, staring at the wooden floorboards, thinking about the smile on Draco's face when they'd been joking about his singing clock, before he shrugs and carries on getting changed. That thought can wait until tomorrow. He's had enough thinking for one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up in a couple of weeks, but as you probably know by now, my level of productiveness is rather inconsistent.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what? I'm updating on time! I'm really pleased with myself because I'd originally thought that this chapter would be another late one as it was my birthday a couple of Thursdays ago and I wasn't feeling up to writing anything. I'd started the first scene but I was finding it really hard to write because I always find it easier writing from Draco's point of view and this chapter is very Harry centric. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I hope you'll stick with me as the plot develops. And, always, please let me know if you spot any mistakes because, despite the fact that I am English myself, I'm actually very crap at English.
> 
> Also, just to let you know, I'll be going over the previous chapters and making some very small changes to them. My opinion of my writing changes a lot so I'd really like to improve the fic until it's at its best. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these characters except Meep the cat and Gladys the Scottish woman who knows everything, so all of the characters and ideas in this story that come from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling, of course.

"Harry!" Molly exclaims the second he and his family crowd through the front door of the Burrow, the kids chattering about what colour they think their cousin Rose will be wearing today and Ginny persistently ignoring Harry whenever he tries to talk to her. Molly Weasley drops all of the utensils in her hands into the sink and powerwalks towards him, her arms open wide, and wraps him in a fierce bear hug. Harry laughs warmly into her shoulder and returns the embrace. After several seconds of this, she pulls away and clutches his face in her hands, fixing him with her concerned, motherly gaze. "I haven't seen you in such a long time, dear! Where on earth have you been?"

"Good to know you care about the rest of us as well, Mum." mutters Ginny. The kids have wandered off to do their own thing, Al and Lily have disappeared to play with Rose and Hugo and James has already been sucked into a conversation with George. Molly either doesn't hear Ginny or she just chooses to ignore her, because she continues to wait for Harry's answer, the concerned look still present on her face.

Admittedly, he hadn't thought about popping over to see Molly for a chat in months, his fights with Ginny had been taking over his mind and it seemed all thoughts of visiting his parents-in-law had been erased. He knows Ginny brings the children over regularly to see their Grandparents, but he never seems to tag along. Guilt curls in his stomach, thinking about all they've done for him, and he can't even remember to visit them every so often. "Things have been complicated recently, Molly, I'm so sorry I haven't been by in while."

Molly nods understandingly. She gazes at him almost suspiciously for a few seconds, before seemingly shaking herself and smiling at him again. "Of course, dear, I just wish you'd come over for tea more often. You'll always be welcome here." She pats his cheek gently and releases his face, but not before planting a firm kiss on his forehead. "I'll just be off to carry on fixing dinner, then, I'll see you later."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, no!" Molly insists with a frown, waving her hand at him. "I'll be perfectly fine, I've got Bill peeling potatoes so really there's nothing for you to do. You go and find Ron and Hermione, they'll be upstairs, I think."

"Alright, Molly, but still, let me know if you need me at any point."

"Of course. Now off you go, I'll call you down when dinner's ready!" Molly shoos him out of the room, turning and bustling off to return to the kitchen. Harry smiles fondly to himself, listening to the sounds of Molly scolding Bill fading as he walks away. 

Having not seen his best friends in almost six months due to his three year long bout of misery, Harry finds himself so ridiculously excited to see the pair that he takes the stairs two at a time, his pace quickening all of a sudden to a lively jog. He feels like a child again, running up three sets of stairs as fast as he can. An unexplainable flash of adrenaline has hit him and he can't bring himself to stop until a familiar voice calls for him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Dad!" The voice yells. Harry spins around to face his son, panting, the wide grin on his face a tell-tale sign of his adrenaline rush. Upon seeing his open expression, filled with pure happiness and a childish excitement, Albus freezes, shell-shocked, staring at his father. The expression on his face is almost unrecognisable, Al hasn't seen his dad smile that wide in a long time. The sight makes the boy's heart warm. "Are you ok?" He asks carefully.

"Yes! I'm more than ok!" Harry exclaims, making a strange gesture with his arms. "In fact, I'm going to see your Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, so I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

"Alright." Albus says, smiling tentatively at his dad, happy to see the man so lively.

"See you, kiddo! Say hi to your cousins for me!" He calls as he turns to make his way to Ron's old room, calmer now, blissfully unaware of the little boy watching him go with a pleased grin on his face, hoping that this happy version of his dad is here to stay.

Harry approaches the door he's looking for slowly, as traumatising events have taut him to always knock and take precautions before entering, so he raps his knuckles thrice on the wooden door and says "Uh, it's Harry."

It occurs to him only then that his friends might be a little bit annoyed at him for not contacting them for months on end. He freezes and waits for a reply.

He doesn't get one. Instead he gets a shock as the door swings open and a huge armful of Hermione as she pulls him into a fierce, unforgiving hug. "Harry Potter, I haven't seen you in such a long time that I can barely remember what you look like!" she yells into his shoulder. She abruptly releases him and pushes him a step backwards, glaring at him. "You owe me an explanation. A very long, detailed explanation. I can't _believe_ you. I'm so _angry_." She states, but hugs him again anyway and then pulls him into the room.

Fortunately, Hermione releases him a moment later when she turns to shut the door behind them and Harry faces Ron, who stands with his arms folded, staring at him with his eyebrows raised. "Where have you been, mate? I understand that you quit the Aurors, and Ginny said that you haven't been quite right since then, but it's been months, Harry, _months_ , and we haven't had so much as a Floo call from you."

The guilt inside his mind intensifies and mixes with an abrupt sense of tiredness. "I'm sorry for being so crappy to you guys." Harry sighs, flopping down onto Ron's small childhood bed. "Things have been rough over the last few months. I've been in a constant bad mood because I hadn't had a proper night's sleep since March until a few nights ago. And yes, I know that isn't really a legitimate excuse, but I just didn't want to subject you to my unpleasantness. Now, though, things are changing and I swear I'll start being a better friend. We can even meet for coffee every Saturday like we used to!"

Hermione nods, her hair bobbing as she does so, and perches herself on the bed next to him. She places her hand on his arm and fixes him with a sharp stare. Faintly, Harry feels the bed sink as Ron plants himself on the bed next to them. She studies him for a second, her lips pressed together tightly, then says "Is there anything you need to tell us?"

Considering his best friends, Harry regrets once more that this whole mess has happened. It isn't only his wife he's divorcing, it's his best friend's sister, his adoptive parents' daughter, a member of the family which he'd been so welcomingly accepted into. He looks into Hermione's eyes, full of concern for him, and he knows that she knows. "There will be an announcement at dinner." Harry confirms vaguely, unable to get the words "Ginny and I are divorcing" out of his mouth.

A moment of silence passes. "It's over, isn't it?" Hermione eventually asks, her voice wavering and her eyes showing the signs of imminent tears.

"Yeah." Harry whispers.

Surging forwards to capture him in a hug, a choked noise escapes Hermione's mouth, and she buries her face in his shoulder. Harry wraps his arms around her and returns the fourth embrace he'd received this evening.

"What?" Ron says, confused. "What's going on?"

Ignoring her husband, Hermione pulls back and looks at Harry with tearful eyes. "You know that we'll always be here for you, right? If you ever need to talk. About anything. At all." She tells him in a rush.

"Of course, Hermione." He replies, smiling. He's overcome by a rush of affection for his friend, a fierce sense of gratefulness that he'd been lucky enough to have been acquainted with her in first year.

Ron, though, doesn't feel the moment. "What? Someone tell me what the bloody hell you're both on about!"

As if hearing Ron of the first time, Hermione spins and slaps his shoulder, a scowl dark enough to rival Lucius Malfoy's on her face. "Shut up, Ronald, don't be so insensitive!"

Laughing at Ron's utterly bewildered expression, Harry feels instantaneously glad that he has his friends back. 

**

Once dinner has been eaten and everyone is sat at the table, talking loudly to one another as they pass dishes down to Molly, who levitates each of them into the sink, Harry feels his heart quicken, dreading what is to come. He listens with a fond smile as Molly dismisses Fleur and Angelina's offers to sort out the dishes with a brief swish of her hand, telling them that she'll have Ron and Arthur wash them later once everyone has gone home. She shoots her son and husband a pointed look. Ron rolls his eyes and sighs, clearly feeling like a teenager again, and Harry is surprised that he doesn't protest like he would have when he was 11. Arthur, however, remains oblivious to his wife's gaze, and doesn't respond as he continues to chatter to James, his flow of speech uninterrupted.

"They've got these things called DVD players, and they're _magnificent_ ," Arthur is telling his Grandson excitedly, making bold gestures with his hands as he explains how Muggle DVD players work. Harry blinks as he realises how much the older man hasn't changed since he first met him. James, the polite boy that he is, nods along and makes impressed humming noises where appropriate, though Harry knows that the boy is aware of what a DVD player is already.

Soon enough, the dishes have finally been stacked in tall piles by the sink, and the several conversations taking place around the room continue to flow. The younger children continue to laugh and poke each other, chattering excitedly at the other end of the table, seemingly in their own little world. Tearing his gaze away from his kids and his nieces and nephews, Harry's gaze moves across the table until he locks eyes with Hermione. She looks at him meaningfully, her eyes flicking to Ginny, who's back is strategically facing her husband as she listens to Charlie tell her in great detail about how he'd seen a beautiful silver-blue Swedish Short-Snout hatchling in Romania. Harry shrugs at Hermione helplessly and hopes he's conveying the message "what can I do?", but she just huffs and frowns at him as if Ginny ignoring him is his fault.

"Just get it over and done with." She mouths across the table to him. Harry sighs. He knows Hermione doesn't like it when he procrastinates, but procrastinating is all he's good at. Despite this, he knows that she is right. Getting the announcement out of the way quickly would be easier, like ripping a plaster off of a scrape rather than peeling it away slowly.

Resigned, Harry turns and taps Ginny on the shoulder to get her attention. She excuses herself from her conversation with her older bother and turns to look at Harry, the look in her eyes vicious. Sighing yet again, Harry says, "Let's just do it." under his breath, making sure no one around them hears.

Harry watches as Ginny deflates, dropping the vicious edge to her posture and facial expression like a stone, anger replaced with reluctance and dread. "But I don't want to." She whispers. Harry sees then more than ever how vulnerable must Ginny be feeling, how much she doesn't want to let her family down. She's just as nervous as him about telling the others the news. Harry takes comfort in the fact that, again, he is not alone.

"I know, Gin. But we have to." Harry says solemnly.

Pressing her lips together, Ginny nods. "Fine. I'll pop over and tell the kids we're about to announce it." She says, standing up and doing just that. Harry watches as she quietly taps Lily and Al on their shoulders. They reluctantly leave their cousins and let her pull them aside, though they don't seem best pleased about being interrupted. Ginny then leans over to do the same to James, who looks slightly relieved to have been excused from the one-sided conversation he was caught in with Arthur, but still apologises to the man before he follows Ginny and goes to stand with his siblings. 

Once they're all crowded in the corner of the kitchen, she gathers them close to her and tells them something in a low voice. Harry can only guess what that something is, as from this distance, he can't make out what she says. Her words are presumably something rather meaningful because all three of them nod sincerely, even little 3 year old Lily, her round eyes serious. After a few seconds of stillness, Ginny pulls her children into a 4 way hug before releasing them and stepping away so that they can each return to their seats. Ginny returns to hers, plopping herself down next to her husband without even glancing his way. Tiredly, she looks around at her family members, who are all still talking enthusiastically. Taking a deep breath, she catches her mother's eye and Harry watches as they share a silent mother-daughter exchange.

How the conversation works, Harry doesn't know, but Molly seems to understand the message Ginny had aimed to convey, because then she clears her throat loudly and raises her voice just enough to ensure that everyone can hear her say "Alright, you lot, simmer down, now! Ginny and Harry have something to tell us!"

Slowly but surely, each of the conversations die down until the room is almost silent, and everyone turns their attention to the couple who sit nervously, side by side, looking at the faces of those who are waiting for them to start speaking. Hermione gives Harry an encouraging smile.

Closing his eyes, Harry takes a second pull himself together, trying to think of something, anything he can say which might deliver the news but at the same time soften the blow. Something witty would be good, something witty but reassuring at the same time. Ok, he can do witty and reassuring. He opens his eyes, now ready to speak, but unfortunately, Ginny doesn't give him the chance to do so, because she blurts out "We're splitting up." as quickly as she possibly can. This isn't quite what he meant by ripping off the plaster, but he supposes she has done quite an efficient job of it.

Harry doesn't know what kind of reaction he'd been expecting, perhaps he'd thought that everyone would immediately erupt into shouts of protest, perhaps he'd thought that one of Ginny's brothers would jump up and punch him in the face for breaking their little sisters heart, or perhaps he'd thought the world would just implode.

Out of all of the things he'd thought could happen, he definitely hadn't thought that Molly would look at them and say "I knew it." and for everyone else to mutter their agreement.

Confused, Harry splutters "What?" and turns to look at Ginny, ready to accuse her off spilling the beans before they'd even had the chance to announce it together, but she looks just as befuddled as Harry feels, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

"Though you may think you were both being very inconspicuous about it, what do you think we were going to assume when we hadn't seen you two together in six months, and when we did see you, you were miserable as sin and looking like you could do with a good nap?" George says with a sad smile.

"Yeah. You've both seemed distant for years." Bill agrees. "We're not happy to see you split up like this, but if you'd be happier apart, all of us agree that going your separate ways is the right thing to do."

Harry nods dumbly and Ginny says "Uh, ok." before she turns and looks at her husband for help. Harry shrugs, unable to think straight, his thoughts utterly muddled.

All of a sudden, the loud scrape of chair leg against tile interrupts the mutterings of support which had been flowing through the room. Everyone turns to look as Ron rises from his seat, his face red with anger and confusion, his flush clashing harshly with the shade of his hair. "For bloody hell's sake, why didn't I know about this?" He exclaims, his hands rising and falling in a wild gesture of exasperation. "Did you all just forget to mention that you thought my best friend and my sister were on the verge of divorce? Did you think I wouldn't be interested in the slightest to hear of it?"

Everyone looks at Ron, unsure of what to think. Half of the people in the room seem to be trying very hard to conceal their laughter and the other half look vaguely guilty, though Harry can't imagine what they feel guilty for. Harry is among the former group, as Ron does look quite comical at the minute, like a cartoon character, and Harry is almost surprised that he doesn't have steam pouring out of his ears. 

Ron, though, continues to rage. "I cannot believe you didn't tell me, you're supposed to be my _family_ -"

It is, unsurprisingly, Molly who gets fed up first. She fixes her son with a severe, unrelenting disapproving glare. "Oh, Ron, for Merlin's sake, sit yourself back down." She snaps at him. "How were we supposed to know you hadn't cottoned on? It's your fault for not noticing, because maybe if you'd paid more attention to the people around you, you would have noticed that something wasn't quite right, and maybe then you would have had the intuition to ask!"

Ron splutters, wide-eyed, but sits back down with a huff anyway, knowing not to cross his mother. He folds his arms across his chest and glares at everyone around the table.

Harry, along with the rest of the family, laughs, partly at Ron's distress, and partly because he feels so relieved. He feels like a massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and he has one less thing to worry about.

Now, all that remains is the Malfoy problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The next chapter should be up in a couple of weeks, and I have it all planned out this time, so let's hope that I can stay on schedule:)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am so sorry for the crazy long wait for this chapter. I've been ridiculously busy this summer and I haven't had the chance to write, even though I did promise you guys that I'd update a couple of weeks after the last chapter. I'm a filthy liar and you have every right to be angry at me for that. The chapter is finally done, though, and I'm quite pleased with it, even though it did NOT stick to the very specific chapter plan I had:L 
> 
> I hope you guys like it, anyway, and if you don't, please tell me, as I'm always looking to improve my writing:) And as always, please let me know if you spot any spelling or grammar mistakes or typos, because despite the fact that I am English myself, I'm actually very crap at English. Also, the solution to The Box Problem Plot Hole will have to wait until the next chapter, because the opportunity to write it into this one didn't arise.
> 
> By the way, I had to do a tonne of research to write the first scene, because I don't actually know that much about Brighton, but I did find on google that it has a real local newspaper called The Argus, and I found that extremely funny, so I just had to use it in the fic. Also, I have no idea if newspapers even have property columns anymore, but let's just imagine they do.

When Harry finally finds the most perfect home possible for him and his children, he is curled up on the sofa with a hot mug of tea clutched in his hand, a thick green blanket covering his body and Meep sprawled out on his lap, simultaneously watching Mean Girls on the TV with Luna and Rolf and flicking through a Muggle newspaper.

He's been buying papers from random Muggle towns and searching through the property ads for almost a week, since he'd come across a stall selling local papers in Muggle Manchester. He'd been there with Albus visiting Dean and Seamus, walking down the street after having a couple of pints with his old school friends and watching his son play with their new puppy, when the heading _The Manchester Evening News_ caught his eye, and the idea to look for properties in the paper, the way most people opted to avoid, struck him out of nowhere.

Honestly, Harry knows that buying a laptop and creating a RightMove account would be a hell of a lot easier for him, but this way is actually a lot more fun, if a little tiring. Consequently, random trips to random towns have been frequent over the last week for him and Albus, who's been tagging along with his dad, saying that he's going to eat an ice lolly in every town in the world before he dies and he wants to start now. Looking at his little determined face, Harry didn't have the heart to tell him no, which probably says something about his parenting ability. _Oh, well,_ Harry thinks with a shrug to himself, continuing to skim through the newspaper in his hands.

The paper is called _The Argus_ , which is probably what had prompted Harry to buy it rather than the other papers, as it made him think of Filch and bloody Mrs Norris, and he'd bought it whilst he and all of his children (and Luna and Rolf) were visiting the beach in Brighton yesterday. Albus had found that he approved of the ice lollies in Brighton quite thoroughly. In fact, he approved of them so thoroughly that he made everyone try it, too, insisting that it was the best ice lolly he'd ever tasted.

Mentally scolding himself for becoming distracted by his own thoughts again, Harry turns his attention back to the properties page, which is full of beautiful homes on the coastline, ranging in size, price and location. However, out of all of the big, wonderful houses, one immediately catches his eye.

It's located near the sea front, which he knows the children will love to hear, and it's an attractive home in a very Muggle area. He reads that it has 5 bedrooms; one master double with an en suite, perfect for him, 3 double rooms of decent sizes which he knows will suit the kids just fine, and one single room for anyone who might wish to come and stay. It's not as big as a wizarding house might be, but it sounds perfect for his family, and it's right within his ideal price range. Harry finds himself grinning as he instantly takes a note of the contact number of the estate agents, _Hamptons_ , which is dealing with the property. He leans over to show Luna an Rolf.

"It looks absolutely perfect, Harry! The area is just right for you guys." Rolf says earnestly, a truly genuine smile on his face, his eyes crinkled around the edges in a way that Harry associates completely with Rolf. "You should call the agent tomorrow and they might be able to let you take the children to see it with you soon, before James goes to Hogwarts."

Luna hums her agreement and smiles widely, though she says nothing, just nods several times and grins. Harry blinks and decides to interpret her nodding as nodding of approval, and thinks about how he should go and see the property at the next opportunity possible, excited to show the children where he'd like them all to live, and see if they like the place as much as he does.

"Yeah, I think I'll call tomorrow and arrange something for Friday." Harry says thoughtfully.

Luna nods once more before she smiles serenely at Harry, no longer grinning so crazily, and says "Good idea. Now, though, shall I order some Chinese?"

**

Draco seriously hates his life. It sucks really fucking bad. He spends all day in the shop on week days, sitting behind his sad old desk, forced to deal with sad old customers. On Saturday he spends all day brewing potions in his sad old lab, thinking of his sad old potions professor. On Sunday he sits on his sad old bum in front of the television watching sad old Muggle movies and eating cookies until Pansy brings over dinner. He never ever gets to eat breakfast. He loves to eat breakfast.

In all honesty, Draco lives the world's most average life. His love life is pretty much non-existent, only including his several unrealistic crushes (cough cough) and absolutely no action besides the one plank of a boyfriend he had 4 years ago. He has only Pansy as a real friend, unless you count Greg, whom Draco has spoken to thrice in the last year, namely for the complicated box situation (which he is absolutely not going to think about right now). He really needs a pet. Or a social life.

Now, he sits, his eyes heavy with fatigue, reflecting on his sad old life and staring at the clock on the wall as it ticks closer and closer his self-assigned lunch break. Customers come and go, buying the same potions they normally do, and smiling their sad old fake smiles at him before they leave. Whenever the shop is this quiet, Draco has to force himself not to think about Potter, because when he does, he sounds like a pining, whiny idiot, even to himself, and he sinks further and further into the pit of self hatred he's been hurtling into ever since he'd admitted that he _likelikes_ Potter.

 _Stop_ , Draco tells himself. _This is the last thing you need right now._

Luckily, the bell on the door tings just as he thinks this, and he looks up to see Gladys Sternwater walking into the shop. The first thing Draco notices is that she's wearing a lime green blouse today, but looking at it kind of makes his eyes hurt, so he has to draw his eyes up to her face in order to ease the pain in his head. Her smile, though still present, is more sly than it is warm, which takes him by surprise, but her eyes are sparkling with their usual kindness. "Hey, Gladys." Draco greets her, pushing a smile onto his face.

"Hiya, hun." Gladys says brightly. "I'll have a phial of sleeping draught and a pot of that anti-wrinkle paste, if that's alright." she tells him, approaching the desk and leaning on it with one of her pointy lime green elbows. Draco nods politely and reaches beneath the desk to retrieve the phial of sleeping draught and spins to grab the pot of paste from the shelf. He turns back around and places the items onto the desk. "So." Gladys continues. "That special someone you were waiting for last time I was here. Did you take my advice and pursue them?"

Draco stiffens, lifting his chin stubbornly. "No." He says impulsively, instinctively jumping to defend himself. However, he immediately curses himself for giving himself away so easily. "I mean, what are you talking about?" He asks, desperately trying to cover for his mistake. He knows the attempt is futile, because Gladys Sternwater is too wise to be fooled by something like that.

Predictably, the woman gives him a doubtful look and raises her eyebrows. She considers him for a second, as if wondering whether she should push him further, then she sighs. "When you're ready to tell me about it, I'll be here to listen. I won't judge you, Draco, but I think you need to rant before you can pursue."

Draco hesitates, knowing it'd be nice to get some things off of his chest, but in the end, he decides that he shouldn't risk it. If Potter ever found out that he's pining for him... Draco doesn't even want to think about the utter humiliation and embarrassment he would be subjected to. So, he changes the subject. "That'll be five Galleons."

Gladys presses her lips together, but hands over the coins without another word. Draco is glad that she doesn't carry on questioning him.

**

True to his word, Harry calls _Hamptons_ the next day and speaks to a cheerful man named Andrew, who informs him that the property Harry's interested in is owned by a man who currently lives in Wales, having moved there from Brighton about three years ago, and has been renting the place out since he left. Andrew tells him that the man has recently grown tired of doing so and has decided to sell it permanently for a long term inhabitant. Harry asks to see it on Friday morning and Andrew agrees to meet him and his kids at the address of the property at 10am.

Harry decides that he should probably firecall Ginny to let her know about the plans, and make sure that the kids are able to go with him. He heads into Luna and Rolf's living room to do so. Meep is sleeping in a ball on the hearth, warm from the heat of the fire, and, as much as he hates to disturb her, he has to shoo her away so that he can make the call. She glares at him, but obediently saunters off to sleep in the other room. Harry watches her go with a fond chuckle, then drops to his knees in front of the fire.

When Ginny answers the floo, Harry almost gasps at the sight of her. She looks tired, she has bags the size of Australia underneath her eyes, her cheeks are pale and her hair a mess, and just by looking at her you can tell that she's been looking after two energetic kids and a grumpy teenager for too long. Harry makes the decision then to ask to take the kids out for a shopping day in Diagon Ally tomorrow.

"Hi, Harry." Ginny says with a small, withdrawn smile. Despite how much of a bitch she'd been before the divorce process began, Harry feels sorry for her in that moment. 

"Hey, Gin."

"Not to be rude, but why are you calling?"

"Well, I found a property that I like in the Brighton paper and I've arranged to visit it on Friday. I thought the kids should come and see it before I make the final decision." Harry tells her, watching as a smile crosses her face. Harry can't tell if the smile is an "I'm pleased for you" smile or a "thank fuck you'll have a house soon and the kids can bugger off to yours for a few weeks so I can sleep" smile.

"Nice. You can come and pick the kids up and take them with you. I need a break, to be honest, I can actually feel myself going insane."

Harry laughs and nods solemnly. He knows what she means, their kids could be a handful when they wanted to be. "Sorry I can't take care of them more, but Luna and Rolf don't exactly have the room for it." He says apologetically. "I can take them shopping for the day tomorrow, though. That way you'll get 2 days off and I can take James to get some of the things he needs for Hogwarts."

"That'd be great, I'll tell him to bring his letter." Ginny smiles like she really means it for the first time since she'd answered the call. "Pick them up at ten?"

"Sure." Harry says. They say their goodbyes, then, and when he tells her that he hopes she feels less on-the-verge-of-insane soon, he means it.

**

Somehow, Harry ends up taking two extra kids to Diagon Ally the next day. When he'd gone to pick his three up, Ginny had opened the door and hurriedly said "Ron and Hermione are in Wales and they left Rose and Hugo with me, you can take them with you." and ushered him out of the door, five kids in tow, without any further explanation. He still doesn't know why Ron and Hermione are in Wales, or why they hadn't taken their children. He'd asked Rose and Hugo but they'd just shrugged and carried on chatting with their cousins, as if their parents' whereabouts had nothing to do with them. He supposes the only thing that matters to an eight year old and a ten year old is whether or not they're going to have ice cream with lunch.

Now, he lugs bags full of heavy text books and school equipment down the street, distantly listening to James telling Hugo about how excited he is for Hogwarts. He watches the children absently, mentally doing a quick head count every few minutes, as they stroll down to Fortescue's. The ice cream parlour has somehow remained open, despite the fact that it had been bought out by several different owners over the years. The place might have lost a few customers, due to the fact that it isn't quite how it used to be, but Harry buys ice cream there every time he visits Diagon, determined to keep the place open. As you can imagine, he's very popular with his children and his nieces and nephews.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry catches sight of the familiar side road that he's been visiting so often recently, down which is the apothecary with a particularly attractive owner. Automatically, his thoughts drift to Malfoy. His feet subconsciously take him in the direction of the potions shop. He hasn't been there in a while, perhaps it's time for another visit. He probably shouldn't, he's supposed to be taking the kids for ice cream, but who is he to stop his inner obsession? Distantly, he notices his kids saying his name, tugging on his shirtsleeve and asking him where they're going.

He shakes himself, turning to them with a smile. "I just need to buy some potions, kids, we can get ice cream afterwards." he says, then picks a squealing Lily up and turns, taking off in the direction of the side road. The five children groan at the fact that they'll have to wait longer for their ice cream, but obediently trail after him, mumbling about not having all day.

When they reach Malfoy's store and they're just outside the window, it occurs to him that a potions shop probably isn't a place for young kids, so he gathers them up and tells them to wait outside. "James, you're in charge." He tells his eldest son, who nods seriously and salutes him with a "yes, sir!". "Everyone else do what James says, and don't run off otherwise I'll tell your mother. Whether that's Hermione or Ginny." He adds with a glance and Rose and Hugo. The youngest four children nod, and he prays that they'll take him seriously. He really doesn't want to have to explain to his ex wife that he lost one of their kids, or to Hermione that he lost one of hers whilst she was in Wales. "I'm just going to go in and ask the owner if you guys are allowed inside, I'll be back in a few minutes. And don't forget that while I'm in there, I can see you through the window anyway, and I'll know if you're up to anything, okay?"

Once he's sufficiently lectured them on road safety, Harry hands Lily to James, plonks the bags of books at his feet, and leaves them with a stern look. He turns to face the apothecary, looking through the arched window before he enters. Malfoy is sitting at the desk, a pair of glasses on his nose, writing something down with a Muggle pen, looking rather flustered. There's a cute little flush on his cheeks and he keeps pushing his hair back with his free hand, and Harry _almost_ thinks Malfoy looks sexy, but he doesn't because he isn't gay. He's just obsessed.

Before he can think any further into that thought, he pushes the door open and enters the shop. Malfoy looks up from whatever he's writing, his eyes widening when they catch sight of Harry. He whips off his glasses and pushes what he was writing under a pile of other pieces of paper and parchment. He visibly gathers himself together before he puts a polite smile on his face. "Hello." He says.

"Hi." Harry greets him as he approaches the desk. He suddenly feels shy, his cheeks hot under the blonde man's gaze. "Uh, I've got a few kids outside and I don't like leaving them on their own, but I didn't want to bring them in unless it was safe and okay with you."

Malfoy looks surprised to have been asked. "Well, there's no rule against them coming in, you can go and get them if you want. How many?"

"Five." he says sheepishly.

"Five? I read that you only had three-" Malfoy catches himself, pressing his lips shut. Harry feels a surge of the relief that he's not the only one of them keeping track of the other in the papers.

"Yeah, but I've had Ron and Hermione's kids dumped on me today."

Nodding in realisation, Malfoy leans on the desk with a smile and says "Oh, right. Well, that's not a problem. I like children. Go ahead and bring them inside."

Harry thanks him, hovers for a second, then turns and walks over to the door, swinging it open. He slips outside, heading over to where the children stand, thankfully unharmed, and thankfully all present. "I just spoke to the owner, he's a friend of mine from school. He said you can all come in." He tells them. They all mumble some affirmative phrase as he picks the bags up from the floor, leaving Lily in James' arms, and leads them all inside. He ushers them up to the counter.

Harry quickly runs over each child's name, pointing at them accordingly, and Malfoy nods and waves at them all. "And this is Draco Malfoy, a friend I met at Hogwarts." James looks at Harry suspiciously, because Harry had told him some of the stories from the war, but Harry shakes his head at his son once, and he turns away, thankfully not saying anything. He greets Malfoy politely like he would anyone else.

"Drake Malfoy?" Lily asks. She looks confused, but shows no signs of recognition. Harry hopes that she's forgotten that she'd heard he and Ginny yelling at each other about a "Drake Malfoy". Luckily, she just smiles and says "I like your hair."

"Thank you, I like yours too." Malfoy tells her with a small smile.

Lily giggles her customary giggle and Albus rolls his eyes at his little sister, knowing that her giggle was reserved only for new people she met and wanted to find her cute. The thing was, it normally worked.

"Anyway, how can I help you, Potter?" Malfoy asks him, and for a moment, Harry forgets that he'd planned on coming in here to "get potions" not have a catch up with Malfoy. He panics for a moment, unsure of what to tell him, and probably manages to look like a complete twat as he stands, staring at Malfoy as if he was speaking a different language. The children have fallen silent and are all staring at him, wondering what the hell's going on with him today.

After a moment, he manages to gather himself together. "Wanted to buy some potions, uh, obviously. Just some pepperup."

"Don't we already have enough pepperup, dad?" asks Albus. Harry decides then that sometimes he hates children.

"I'm getting some for Luna, Al. You know what she's like about being prepared." Harry covers rather pathetically. He's rubbish at making excuses on the spot. He'd thought impulsively, as he always does, and he felt like the lie would come back to bite him on the bum.

"Oh." Al mutters, sounding a little sceptical.

Malfoy looks at him weirdly, but grabs the potion from the shelf behind him anyway. "Just the one phial?" he asks, turning and placing it on the counter in front of him.

"Yeah." Harry tells him.

"That'll be three Galleons."

Harry hands Malfoy the coins and takes the phial, stuffing it into his pocket. "Thanks." He says, and Malfoy nods politely.

Lily tugs on the hem of his shirt, looking up at him with her young wide eyes. "Can we get ice cream now?" she asks. The rest of the kids collectively mumble their agreement in sentences that have various levels of patience. Rose looks at him with stern Hermione eyes, telling him that if he says no, she'll get him for it. She scares him as much as her mother does.

For this reason, Harry nods and says "Alright." He turns to Malfoy, preparing to say goodbye until the next time he feels the need to visit the store again. "See you s-" He starts, but then he sees the look on Malfoys face. He has a longing, almost _lonely_ look in his eyes, his mouth is twisted into a small frown, and Harry remembers that the upbringing he had must've lacked family trips to the ice cream parlour, much like the first eleven years of Harry's own life had. Against his own will, the words "Do you want to come along?" slip from his lips before he can do anything about it. "Like, you know, if you can close the shop for a bit."

Malfoy looks surprised - but not utterly horrified, much to Harry's relief - and he splutters for a second before he answers. Harry relates to how he's feeling. When he does get himself together, though, he smiles a real and beautiful smile, and Harry feels butterflies erupt in his stomach at the sight of it. "I'd love to." He tells him quietly. "I'll close the store up, I'm due to take my lunch break about now anyway."

Harry smiles back at him, feeling his cheeks flush, and he can't deny that he feels the happiest he has in a long time. He looks away to see his children and his niece and nephew staring between him and Malfoy in curiosity, James with a little more of a knowing gaze. He quickly shifts his gaze back to Malfoy's face. "Alright, we'll wait for you to close up outside."

When he turns to usher the children outside, Harry can't help but think that he might just be a little bit gay for Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm hoping I'll have the next chapter done and posted in a couple of weeks, but nobody knows if I'll manage that.
> 
> And, just to let you know, I've been sorting out the fic's timeline, so I've made a few miniscule changes to the first few chapters. If this has made anything confusing, just let me know and I'll explain the situation to you:)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably could have done with another edit, to be honest, as I wrote most of it in bits during the advert breaks in Gogglebox, and I'm not at all happy with the beginning, so you'll have to excuse me if it starts off a bit shoddily. Hopefully it gets better as it goes along because I did spend a fair bit more time on the last part. 
> 
> But, hey, I'm on schedule this time! I've managed to get it written and posted without a month long gap, for which I am extremely proud of myself, considering the amount of TV shows and books I've got to finish. Plus, I've managed to squeeze in my excuse for the The Box Problem Plot Hole and consequently make it less of a plot hole and more of a plot crack, so hopefully that'll be cleared up after this chapter.
> 
> Anyway, here it is, I hope you guys like it, and if you don't, please tell me, as I'm always looking to improve my writing:) And as always, please let me know if you spot any spelling or grammar mistakes or typos! This applies particularly to this chapter because I edited it very lazily as I'm very busy this weekend:)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these characters except Meep the cat and Gladys the Scottish woman who knows everything, so all of the characters and ideas in this story that come from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling, of course.

In his defence, Draco manages to remain competent and keep up the small talk with Potter for the duration of the five minute walk from his shop to the ice cream parlour. He's actually rather proud of himself for that. When they get inside, however, and Potter asks the kids what flavour of ice cream they'd all like, with the fondest and cutest smile on his face that Draco has ever seen, he feels himself slowly losing his mind.

He'd never thought about what Potter is like as a dad before now, but watching him with his kids, Draco can't help but think that Potter is not only an absolutely brilliant dad, but he's also a seriously fucking _hot_ dad. This thought nearly drives him insane. Honestly, Draco has never been an overly kinky man, but for several seconds, Draco stares at the floor, thinking about calling Potter daddy as he's fucked into a mattress. He would've stood there all day, but luckily, before his thoughts could give him a hard-on, he's shaken from the daydream when Potter, the daddy himself, touches his arm and says "Draco?"

And Draco almost collapses. Is he hallucinating, or did Potter just call him Draco? _Again_? He breathes in and prays that he doesn't sound like he's just been kicked in the bollocks when he says "Yes? Sorry, I zoned out for a second."

Potter - _Harry_ \- has the decency to ignore the weird moment, and instead he says "What flavour would you like?"

"I'll probably just have vanilla, to be honest." Draco says with a shrug and a small smile. "Boring, I know."

Harry laughs quietly. "Not, boring, I'd say. Just traditional." He tells him. "Though, I prefer something sweeter."

"I bet you're a triple chocolate kind of guy."

With a questioning smile, Harry turns to him in surprise. "Yes! How did you know?"

"Wild guess." Draco tells him.

Harry laughs again, and turns back towards the front, muttering about being predictable, his eyes wrinkling at the corners with the strength of his smile. Something stirs inside Draco. He simply cannot believe he's here, standing in a queue with Harry Potter, joking and chatting with him as if they're old friends rather than old enemies. 

He looks over to the man standing next to him. The brunet is quiet now, a subtle smile complimenting his face as he glances around the parlour with a fond gaze. Standing as close as to Harry as he is at the moment, Draco can't help but notice how green Harry's eyes are. I mean, obviously Draco's always known that they're green, it's something you can't miss when you look at Harry Potter, but just now he realises that they're an absolutely beautiful shade, and they shine when he smiles like he's smiling now. Draco's heart flutters so viciously that he worries for a second it'll drop right out of his chest.

Then, the family in front of them head to the counter to order their ice cream.

"You can go up with the kids first and get yours, I'll buy mine after."

Harry suddenly frowns, and for a second Draco thinks that he's just screwed up any chance he'd had at becoming Harry's friend. He feels a pang of regret and deep self-loathing. Then, he looks up to catch the expression on Harry's face, and notices that the man doesn't look unhappy. He's frowning but his eyes are still kind. "I'll get yours." Harry insists earnestly.

"Are you sure?" Draco asks.

With a determined and sincere frown, Harry nods. "Of course."

Before Draco can thank him, the woman at the counter yells "Next!" and it's their turn to order. Harry gathers the children and takes them up to the counter, and Draco trails along behind them. He listens as Harry reels off a list of ice cream flavours, pointing accordingly to each child as he says them, then he orders Draco's and his own.

Soon enough, once they've received their ice creams, they sit themselves down at the only table big enough to seat seven people, he and Harry at one end and the five children at the other. Harry's children happily thank their father for the ice cream and their cousins follow suit, then they all turn their backs to the two adults and continue their own conversations, simultaneously eating their cones and smearing chocolate all over their faces. Harry rolls his eyes, turning to Draco with a fond smile, as if to say "kids, what can you do with them?", before he starts to eat his own frozen dessert.

Draco smiles and takes a lick of his vanilla ice cream. "Thank you. You really didn't have to buy mine." He says, his voice quiet.

"You're very welcome. That's what friends are for, right?"

Pausing in his ice cream eating, Draco blinks in surprise and looks at the other man quizzically, suddenly feeling very small. Are they friends? He supposes they are. Only friends go and get ice cream together, not mere acquaintances, and certainly not enemies. Despite this, he hadn't known that Harry had started to think of him as a friend, especially after all he'd done to him when they were at school. "Friends?" He utters, his voice almost a whisper.

Before Draco can stop and consider what that must have sounded like, a hurt look crosses Harry's face and he says "Well, yeah, I'd assumed we were friends. But I get it if you don't want to be friends with me-"

"Wait, no." Draco hurries to cut him off. "Yes. Yeah, of course I want to be your friend." Draco assures him. "I'm just surprised, I didn't think you'd want to be friends with someone like me."

Draco sees the tension leave Harry's shoulders, but the man doesn't relax for long, because he suddenly appears to grow confused, almost affronted. Draco searches his brain for a possible reason for Harry's confusion, but he can't seem to think of anything that could have caused it. Then, just as Draco is starting to panic, Harry swallows, leaning closer to Draco as he says "Someone like you? What do you mean by that?"

"Well..." Draco starts awkwardly. He'd honestly thought that Harry would know what _someone like him_ was meant to mean, he hadn't thought that he'd have to explain it. He struggles to form words for a moment, unsure of how to start talking about the long list of "reasons why nobody wants to be friends with Draco Malfoy". In the end, he just goes for it. "Well, you know, I'm just a generally bad person. If you consider the fact that I was a death eater, _and_ if you consider how much of an asshole I was when we were at school, then it's rather understandable that I'd assume you wouldn't want to be friends with me. Not to mention the fact that I've been almost completely isolated since the trials, only talking to the people I've had to, and the fact that I'm just what everyone knows as a purely unlikeable person."

"Draco-" Harry says quietly, but Draco barely hears him.

His lips seems to have a mind of their own as the words continue to slip from them, hardly making sense any longer. He finds himself on the verge of hysterical and unable to stop talking. "Even if I hadn't committed the crimes that I did, even if I hadn't been the utter twat I was at Hogwarts, no one would want to be friends with me anyway. I'm someone who spends most of their free time watching crappy sitcoms and eating Chinese, someone who's somehow capable of getting a cardboard box permanently stuck under their desk, someone who's terrible at handling their emotions and- and-"

"Stop!" Draco jumps at the sound of Harry's firm voice. His head jerks up and he sees that Harry's face is twisted into an unpleasant frown, his eyes flickering with not anger but sadness. Draco notices that at some point whilst he'd been ranting, Harry had grabbed a hold of his wrist and started squeezing it tightly. He realises that he'd been so into his speech that he hadn't felt the grasp.

Draco looks at Harry questioningly. He hurriedly licks the melting drops of his neglected ice cream from where they're beginning to drip down his cone. "What?" He asks, his voice so low that he doubts Harry even hears it.

Harry's gaze flicks to the children, and it occurs to Draco that they'd probably heard Draco's rant, and if not that, then the sound of Harry's distressed voice. The blond worriedly glances in their direction, too. Luckily, the four youngest children seem to be unfazed, only glancing at the adults with mild curiosity every once in a while. However, James appears to have noticed what was going on, and is now looking at Draco, his eyes not unkind but rather searching, his lips pressed together in an assessing frown. He continues to stare for the next five or so seconds, and Draco continues to meet his gaze, before the young boy turns away from him and tries his best to keep the attention of the four younger children away from Draco and his father.

"Draco." Harry says, drawing Draco's attention away from the children. He turns at the sound of the man's voice, and finds the brunet looking at him with intense eyes. "You can't think of yourself like that. Everything that happened at Hogwarts happened because we were children in the middle of a war. If we're going on what happened during the war, then it's _you_ who shouldn't want to be friends with _me_."

"What are you on about, I was a _death eater_ -" Draco tries to protest, but Harry holds up his melting ice cream cone to silence him.

"And I _cut you open_ , for fucks sake," Harry hisses quietly, trying to keep his voice away from the young ears of his children. "And I think that's a more than valid excuse for you to hate me. I hurt you more than once and, to be fair, you hurt me, too. But we saved each other's lives several times, as well. I think we should just call it even and put the past behind us. Maybe we'll manage to be friends, maybe we won't, but I think we should try."

Draco feels tears of relief threatening to spill from his eyes, their presence completely unjustified and wholly unapproved of. Draco swallows the emotions and blinks against the tears, praying to every god he knows of that he'll be able to keep himself in check on this occasion, for the sake of his own dignity. Once he feels as though he's gotten himself together enough, Draco squeaks out "Okay." and Harry gives him a huge smile, squeezing the wrist that he is still, for some reason, holding. Draco can't help but return the smile with one of his own.

After a second of smiling at each other stupidly like a pair of idiots, Harry lets go of Draco's wrist and sits back, the smile not leaving his face. Draco feels the loss of contact in the very core of his soul, though he does try to hide his disappointment as he, too, leans back in his chair. The both of them turn their attention to trying to fix the mess their ice creams have become, licking the melting liquid as quickly as possible.

After some time of just this, neither of them speaking, Harry says. "So what _did_ happen to the box?"

Draco frowns, trying to recall what "box" Harry could be talking about. Then he remembers the box of phials he'd been struggling to get out from under his desk, however long ago that was. 

He laughs sheepishly and begins to tell the story. 

"Well, you see, I called Greg over the next morning to try and sort it out with his huge muscles and incredible strength, but even he couldn't pull it out. Then, it finally occurred to me to use magic on it. I don't know why I didn't think to do it before, but I guess I just thought that getting it out by hand would make it less likely for me to break every phial inside it with my magic. But I was so fed up with the stupid box that I tried every spell under the sun anyway. Literally every spell I could think of, find in a book or get Snape's portrait to tell me..."

And Draco tells Harry everything as he finishes off his vanilla ice cream, about the curses and the counter curses and all of the times he'd failed to defeat the mystery of the box, even managing to get the man to laugh at his shoddy anecdotes. As the story goes on, even the children tune in and begin to listen to his tale, so he exaggerates certain parts to get them to laugh, and Harry watches him with a fond smile the whole time, and Draco smiles right back, feeling as though with Harry's friendship, his life is finally getting a little bit better.

**

When they get back from Diagon Ally, Harry unlocks the door to Ginny's house with his key and lets the children inside, watching them with cautious eyes as they run in, laughing and talking. He does one last head count to make sure he's successfully managed to take them out for ice cream without losing any of them along the way. Luckily, he seems to have all of them with him as he heads into the house behind them, so he turns and locks the front door, feeling assured.

They'd walked Draco back to the Apothecary once they'd all finished their ice creams, and Draco had said goodbye to all of the children before he'd turned to Harry with a sheepish smile. That was when Harry'd given into the urge he'd been having all day to give Draco a big hug and bury his face into the man's blond, silky-looking hair, just to see what it smelt like. After a moment of inhaling the sweet scent of watermelon and oranges and several different kinds of berries, Harry had realised what he was doing and stepped away awkwardly, then hurriedly said goodbye and left with the promise to get ice cream together again another time.

Now, Harry watches with a smile as the kids head off in different directions. Albus, Hugo and Rose run upstairs, probably to play in Albus' room, and James heads into the kitchen by himself, mumbling about making a sandwich. Lily, however, runs into the living room to tell Ginny about her day. "Mummy!" Harry hears Lily yell, followed by Ginny's soft "oof" as she presumably climbs into her mum's lap. Harry decides to head into the living room and help his ex wife out with their excited three year old daughter. He heads in plops himself onto one of the sofas, nodding towards Ginny and listening to Lily talk. "I had strawberry ice cream today. It's my favourite flavour." Lily tells her mother gravely.

Ginny gasps dramatically and exclaims "Strawberry is my favourite flavour, too!"

"That's why I decided to get it, mummy, because you're always right!" Lily tells her excitedly.

Laughing, Ginny nods in agreement. "I like the way you think." She says, rearranging the little girl in her lap. "What else did you do?"

"Well, daddy took us to see his friend in the potions shop. His name was Drake Malfoy. The sad looking one with the pretty blond hair."

Ginny's eyes widen, and Harry realises, not for the first time, that kids are really terrible to have around when you don't want your nosey ex wife to know that you're meeting up with the one she thinks you're in love with, and the one that you know that you're at least half in love with. If that makes any sense. "Did you, now?" Ginny asks, turning to look at him accusingly, her eyes narrow.

Lily pats her mum's shoulder impatiently to get her attention, annoyed that the woman isn't looking at her anymore. Ginny obediently returns her gaze to her daughter. "He looked lonely when he and daddy had a talk in the shop. Then he came to get ice cream with us, which was fun, but he likes vanilla, which is the worst flavour. He told funny stories, though, so I didn't mind."

"Oh. Wow." Ginny says, sounding genuinely surprised. She glances at Harry, then sits up straight, lifting Lily off of her lap and setting her on the floor. "Go and play with your brother and your cousins. Daddy and I need to talk."

Lily nods, thinking nothing of it, and runs off, her little feet pattering loudly on the floor as she goes.

Ginny sits back and turns her attention to her ex husband. "So. Ice cream with Malfoy. Things are getting serious between you two."

Harry scoffs. "I wouldn't say serious, Gin, for goodness sake. We barely scratched the surface of being _friends_ today. We just got ice cream and had a chat, it was nice."

"Harry, you didn't just get ice cream and have a chat. You know that."

"Know what?" Harry asks, frowning. He is seriously confused. He searches for a double meaning somewhere in the sentence, but finds nothing out of the ordinary. "What are you on about, Ginny? We were together for a grand total of barely fifty minutes-"

"No, Harry!" Ginny hisses, and Harry knows that she would be yelling if it wasn't for the fact that there are kids in the house. "Yes, you were only together for an hour, but getting ice cream, with five children in tow is, like, I don't know, eighth base. It's pretty fucking serious now. It's not just going to his shop every month for some potions anymore, you're on the level where it's appropriate to pop over to his house and go out for lunch, and you haven't even realised that you're in _love_ with him-"

"What does the fact that I'm in love with him have to do with us going out for lunch?" Harry demands, feeling his patience slipping.

Ginny's expression morphs from angry to smug in a matter of seconds. She smiles slyly. "So you admit it?"

Realising what he'd essentially said, Harry flushes. He takes one look at Ginny's face and knows that he's been played. "Fuck." He says.

"Harry, don't get me wrong, I'm glad you've admitted to yourself that you love him, even if you won't say it to anyone else yet." Ginny tells him. She still looks pretty pleased with herself, but in a less intimidating way now. "You just need to remember that I don't have a problem with you dating Malfoy, but please keep the kids out of it. He hasn't got a great history-"

Jumping to the man's defence, Harry instinctively interrupts. "Draco isn't a bad person, he's changed-"

"And I don't doubt that. But cut me some slack, here, he used to call our family weasels and make fun of us in school, not to mention all the other things he did, and until I know I can trust him, I don't want him around the kids. Okay?"

Pressing his lips together, Harry takes a deep breath and stops himself from arguing the toss. "Okay." He says tightly. "I don't agree with you, but okay."

Ginny steps forward and engulfs him in a friendly hug. "Thanks, Harry." She says. "I hope I can trust him one day, but for the moment, I can't."

Reluctantly, Harry returns the hug. He understands where she's coming from, but he knows that the kids enjoyed their time with Draco, and he wants nothing more than to do what they did today again, but without Ginny's permission, he guesses he'll have to leave that wish unfulfilled for the moment. However, he knows he won't be able to stay away from Draco until Ginny allows the children to go with him, so as an alternative, he'll have to go back and take Draco out by himself.

And Harry has no idea if he can handle that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, I'm on time again! I actually had this written and finished pretty early, it was mostly done by the end of last week, but it still needed heavy editing because I'd written it so quickly. I've completely changed the first scene about twelve times by now, so hopefully it isn't too choppy and awkward. Also, my knowledge of Brighton is extremely limited, as I've only been there once or twice, but I did try to make everything I wrote accurate to both the Muggle world and the Wizarding one as we know it.
> 
> Also, I just want to let you know that the next chapter might be delayed, because I've got a hell of a month coming up, what with my OTRA tour date next week (woo) and comic con a couple of weeks after that, and then there's Halloween and I have a set of exams in early November that I am completely unprepared for, so yeah, it might be a three or four week gap. I'm going to try and write most of it this week, because my schedule is pretty clear, but who knows when I'll manage to finish and edit it. If things go well, I'll update in two weeks time like I'm supposed to, but unfortunately I have no idea.
> 
> Anyway, here it is, I hope you guys like it, and if you don't, please tell me, as I'm always looking to improve my writing:) Though I have edited it, you probably know by now how crappy I am at spotting mistakes in my own writing, so please point out any typos or spelling mistakes I've made!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these characters except Meep and Gladys, so all of the characters and ideas in this story that come from the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling, of course.

The customary jarring tug that hits Harry when the Portkey activates takes him completely by surprise. His stomach turns, his head fuzzing over, leaving him unpleasantly disorientated and nauseas. He groans, suddenly feeling parched, a torrid heat burning on his tongue. This is something he doesn't think he'll ever get used to, no matter how many times he might travel using a Portkey in his lifetime. 

It, combined with the sudden exposure to the icy air of the seafront, makes him gasp and double over as he and his children are deposited behind a row of dustbins in a narrow, grotty-looking Muggle alleyway. A foul smell assaults his senses, the stench of rotting food and dampness and Merlin knows what else.

"Ugh." He mutters, suppressing the urge to vomit. His stomach hasn't quite agreed with Portkeys since the incident in fourth year, so he supposes he should have known that using this method of travel today would make him queasy. He straightens up, shaking himself, closing his eyes and trying to get himself together. Distantly, he hears his children muttering and groaning in distaste, but he can't bring himself to check on them yet. He doesn't think he can handle them whilst he's feeling like the alleyway is spinning around him. 

Once he's feeling marginally less dizzy, he slowly looks around at their surroundings, hoping that their Portkey has taken them to the right place, but he can't see anything other than dustbins, puddles and half empty boxes of food. Are they in Brighton? Harry prays that they bloody are, because they've got to be at the new house by one o'clock and it's already almost twelve.

Suddenly, seagull screeches behind them, breaking Harry's train of thought with its ear-splitting cry. Harry spins to face it, alarmed. It flaps its wings wildly where it is perched on top of one of the huge green dustbins, snapping its beak threateningly towards them as it snatches up a huge half eaten subway sandwich and takes flight, fleeing from the intruders.

Harry blinks in surprise, staring at the empty space where the seagull had previously been. He hears Lily make a sound of distress, and Harry's just listening to James tell her haughtily that it was "only a silly bloody bird", when the logo printed on the side of the green dustbin catches his eye. It says _Brighton & Hove City Council_. Harry breathes a sigh of relief, turning to make sure his children had made it to Brighton alive and had not been scared out of their minds by the monstrous bird. Thankfully, he turns to see that they're all standing, looking slightly dishevelled but nonetheless sane and alive, at his side, their faces scrunched up in disgust and unease.

"I don't like seagulls." Decides Lily, her face showing the remaining traces of fear left behind by the incident. To be fair, it was a big bird, and its body was probably about the size of her head. Harry doesn't blame her for being shaken. "I don't like Portkeys either." She adds, frowning down at the empty Fanta can they'd used as the Portkey as if she could make it disappear with her sharp gaze alone. Harry laughs lightly and bends down to pick her up.

"Neither do I, sweetheart." He assures her. "We'll catch the train back home, though, like I promised, so we won't have to do it again for a while."

"Good." Says James, sounding relieved. "I feel a bit sick now."

"Me too." Albus agrees sadly.

Looking at them, Harry realises that both of them do seem a bit off, their faces pale and sickly. He wonders whether they should still go ahead with the plans for the day if they're not feeling very well. The last thing he wants is to have to deal with one of them vomiting in the new house before he's even had the chance to buy it. Then, he has an idea. "Do you think you'll feel a bit better if we stop for lunch before we go to the house? Maybe it'll help for you to eat something."

Unsurprisingly, Albus perks up at the mention of food, and even James manages an interested glance at his father. "Where?" Albus asks, looking at Harry apprehensively.

"Hmm," Harry hums. He already knows where this conversation is going. "I'm not sure. I'm in the mood for something Muggle, today, and I don't know about you, but I fancy a burger and chips. How do you guys feel about McDonalds? Will that make you both feel better?"

Albus grins delightedly, then quickly changes his facial expression into one of consideration. He taps his chin as if trying to make a decision. "Why yes, I do think that'll make us better." Albus tells him seriously. "What do you think, Doctor James?"

James smiles widely at his little brother. "Why, I agree, Doctor Al."

"Right," Harry says, unable to keep the fond smile from creeping onto his face. "If that's what the Doctor orders, then I guess we'd better go and find the nearest place."

"I like McDonalds!" Lily yells, her little face showing her childish excitement. Her brothers laugh and voice their agreement. Harry chuckles lightly as they exit the alleyway, emerging somewhere down a long Muggle highstreet. By the looks of it, finding a McDonalds around here shouldn't be too hard, so they can have lunch quickly and catch the bus to Queens Park Road afterwards to see the new house. Simple.

**

As it turns out, finding a McDonalds isn't as easy as Harry'd expected it to be, and catching the bus even less so. It takes them half an hour to walk from the alley they'd landed in to the nearest McDonalds, which is only about three blocks away, but dragging along three whining children that want chips apparently elongates what could be a ten minute walk to a half an hour one.

Then, once they've successfully eaten lunch, it's time to catch the bus. Apparently the bus system in Brighton is not much like the one in London, so he has to figure out what bus goes where and how often before they can get onto one. This in itself takes another half an hour, and by the time they've gotten on a bus and endured the twenty minute bus ride to Queens Park Road, they're half an hour late for their one o'clock meeting with Andrew from _Hamptons_ and Harry is extremely agitated.

"Hi, are you Andrew?" Harry gasps out, panting, as he reaches the red haired man standing outside the house Harry's supposed to be buying, sweating profusely from the speed walk up the road. The man nods in confirmation. Lily is fidgeting in his arms, James is grumbling, sour faced, about child labour, and Harry can see Albus glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. "I'm so sorry we're late, but we had to get the bus from the station and I couldn't figure out which bus to catch. The system here is so confusing to me, I'm used to the London buses-"

"And we got McDo-" Lily tries to add, but Harry, expecting her interruption, calmly turns her head until her face is pressed into his neck and he bounces her up and down lightly in his arms as if trying to put her so sleep.

"Buses." Harry confirms. Once Lily stops trying to speak, he releases her head and lets her lean back and glare at him.

Andrew nods sympathetically like he'd been expecting them to be late, either not noticing the little girl's blip or just ignoring it. "That's alright, no one figures out how to get around on the buses in Brighton the first time they try. Hopefully it'll be easier on the way back to the station, now that you know how everything works." The man assures him. "Would you like to see the house?"

The three children nod excitedly. Harry smiles and says "Yes, please." Then, for the first time since they'd arrived, Harry turns to look at the house properly. He has to stop himself from gasping aloud. I mean, he'd known what it looks like, obviously, but seeing it in the papers is so much different to seeing it in real life. The exterior is beautiful, it's tall and old-looking like a traditional Tudor style house and its front lawn is surrounded by colourful flower-baring bushes that frame the property nicely. Though it blends in well with the street full of similar looking houses, this one has something unique about it that Harry can't quite place, something that gives it a sense of subtle grandeur. In fact, if Harry didn't know for definite that it was a Muggle house, he would probably easily mistake it for a wizarding one. Quite frankly, it looks perfect, and his children were raised mostly in the wizarding world, so the resemblance might just put them further at ease.

"Alright. Let's head inside." Andrew says, pulling a set of keys from his pocket as he leads them down the pathway towards the entrance to the house. Harry already knows that he'll love the place. He can tell by looking at it that it's going to be perfect, and judging on the awed expressions on his kids' faces, he thinks they'll love it too.

**

"I love it." James tells his father firmly as they exit the property after their tour with Andrew had come to a close. "I think we should get it."

"Me too." Albus says.

Knowing his children like the property as much as he does puts Harry's mind at ease. He'd been worried that they wouldn't like it, because he knows he wouldn't want to purchase any house if he didn't have their approval. "That's good, I'm glad you like it. I do too." Harry tells his sons before he turns to look at the little girl in his arms. "What about you, Lily?"

"Well." She says. "I only like it if I can have one of the big bedrooms."

"Yes, you can have one of the double bedrooms, but it's between you and your brothers who gets which. They're all about the same size, I think."

"Good." Lily grins, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Then I like it, daddy, you should buy it."

Smiling in relief, Harry turns to Andrew, ready to ask for details about buying the place and moving in, but Andrew already seems to know what he's going to say. He starts shifting through the papers in the bag currently hanging over his shoulder. "So," The red haired estate agent starts. "Because of the fact that the owner of the house isn't currently living at the property, and the fact that you haven't got a permanent residence to move out of and sell, there isn't a chain, and it only involves you moving into an empty property. You've just got to get the official documents sorted out, and then you're good to go. I'd say the process could take about three to four weeks, and I can give you an official moving date by the end of the month."

A month. That isn't too long. "That sounds great." Harry says. He hopes Luna and Rolf will be okay with him kipping at theirs until he gets to move into his new place, because after all, he has been staying with them for a long time now, and they might be fed up with him clogging up their spare bedroom. Realistically, he knows that they won't mind, because they're the nicest people Harry knows, but he can always go and stay with Molly and Arthur if they'd prefer to get rid of him.

This is when he remembers the promise he made Molly to pop in for tea more often. He'd better visit the Burrow at some point over the weekend, he guesses.

"Okay, I suggest you hire an estate agent in your area to deal with the legal documents. That way I can contact you through them, as well."

Nodding, Harry mentally makes a note to look into it later. "I'll do that. Thank you for showing us the property, Andrew."

"No problem. When you've got yourself an estate agent, email me their company details and their name so I can get in touch with them." Andrew tells him. He checks his watch. "I'd better be on my way, now. Good luck catching the bus!"

Harry laughs, and when he says "We're going to need it.", he isn't lying at all. They exchange their goodbyes, then Harry turns and herds his children up the street, in the direction he thinks will take them to the bus stop. _Oh, Merlin,_ he thinks, _this isn't going to be fun._

**

"I don't know who you are." Liam Neeson says in a menacing voice, the rumble of it sending rows of goosebumps up the skin of Draco's arms. The actual words of the man's speech wash right over Draco's head, and he misses most of the dialogue because he's too busy suppressing the hard-on that threatens to tent his pants at the sound of the husky voice. By the time Draco snaps out of his daze and tunes back in, Liam is saying "But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will kill you."

"Oh shit." Pansy says loudly from where she's sitting next to him, leaning forwards on the sofa and staring at the television like her life depends on it. Draco has to agree with her. This scene deserves an "oh shit". This entire movie deserves an "oh shit". 

"I _know_." Draco says. "His voice is _delicious_."

Then, of course, ITV decides to insert a shitty advert break at this very moment, and Pansy repeats herself passionately, if a bit more angrily. "Oh _shit_."

Draco sighs and leans back on the sofa, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "Fucking ITV. Depriving us of Liam Neeson for several minutes. Disgusting."

Grumbling some form of agreement, Pansy leans back as well and snatches the bowl of popcorn from him. For a moment, both of them stare sulkily at the television and chew their popcorn, grudgingly watching the ads that are keeping them from continuing to watch _Taken_. 

Then, out of nowhere Pansy swings around on the sofa, and Draco can tell by the look in her eyes that she means business. They were no longer just watching the ads and waiting for the movie to come back on, they were having a talk. A _talk_ talk.

"So." She begins, fixing him with a considering stare. "How's Potter?"

"What do you mean by that?" Draco asks defensively, knowing as soon as the words had left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. Pansy narrows her eyes.

"You know what I mean." She says lowly. "I heard from a friend, who heard from a friend, who heard from a friend that you met with him at Fortescue's. And you didn't tell me."

He supposes he should have seen this coming, he should have known that Pansy would get defensive and complain that he didn't tell her about him and Potter getting ice cream, when she's supposed to be his best friend and "guy consultant". Her words, not his. "Pansy," He begins. "It's just that I-" Then, Draco realises something. "Hold on, there wasn't that many people in Fortescue's, and surely Harry's life isn't important enough for it to be public knowledge when he goes to get ice cream, so who the bloody hell told you?"

In her defence, Pansy does try to keep up her lie, despite how she hesitates before she speaks. "I told you, I heard from a friend, who heard fro-"

He cuts her off. "I can smell when you're lying, Pans."

"I'm not-"

"I can _smell it_."

"Well-" Pansy starts. She pauses, her face tight with displeasure. Draco knows that she knows that she's been caught, but he also knows that she won't admit it until she absolutely has too. She'll give in soon. Draco just has to give her a reason to. She sits up straighter, her hands clutching tightly at the popcorn bowl, a scowl threatening to take over her face. "Maybe I am lying. But the question is, why didn't you tell me you met with him-"

"No, Pansy, I'm not talking about that until you tell me who told you."

"Draco-"

"Nope. Tell me."

It's clear in the way Pansy deflates that she's about to give in. She clearly doesn't see the point in trying to argue. After all, Draco is her best friend and she knows how stubborn he can be. "Ginny Weasley." She admits sadly, as if she's ashamed of herself.

" _Ginny Weasley_? You're talking to _Ginny Weasley_? Fuck, Pansy, if I'd known I was being such a terrible friend that you'd go to that mad woman seeking friendship, I'd have been better company-"

Scoffing, the woman tosses a piece of popcorn at his face. He scowls at her. "We're hardly friends, Draco. She sent me an owl today telling me briefly that you'd met with her husband and she wanted to know if I knew your intentions."

Draco leans forwards, curious now. "Really?" He asks. Pansy nods. "And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that you only ever have pure intentions, because you're a pure man with a tendency to be too honest and too trusting. I told her that Potter makes you happy, and I haven't seen anyone make you as happy as he does in years. I told her that if yours and Potter's "friendship" is going to result in anyone getting hurt, it'll be you, because you have a fragile heart, and I told her that it should be _me_ asking _her_ about _Potter's_ intentions. That's what I told her."

Pausing for a second, Draco feels a small smile climb onto his face. "Aw, Pans. You defended by honour to the wife of the man we hated at school. That's sweet."

"Don't forget the fact that he's also the man you currently love, Draco, because I won't go around defending you to all the wives of men we hated."

Draco laughs. "And I wouldn't expect you to. There are so _many_ -"

Laughing, Pansy shuffles across the sofa until she's right next to him, close enough to give him a hug. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him towards her, burying her face into his shoulder. Surprised, Draco puts his arms around her and returns the embrace. He has no idea where this affection is coming from, but it comes so rarely that Draco isn't going to reject it now. "You're my best friend." Pansy says into the fabric of his t shirt. "It may not seem like it, but I do love you."

"I know, Pans. I love you, too."

After a minute of quietness and hugging, the only noise in the room the sound of a Tescos advert on the TV, Pansy abruptly pulls away. She smiles widely at him, then says "So, tell me what happened with Potter."

And so Draco tells her, his best friend and "guy consultant", all about it. Pleased that he has someone to talk to, Draco puts everything into his story, giving her all of the details he can. Then, he asks her what she thinks. 

With a sly smile, Pansy looks at him, her eyes filled with something Draco can't quite decipher. "I think it sounds like you went on a date." She says. Draco flushes, surprised. Was it a date? He supposes it could have been. He hopes it was, because if so, it clearly went quite well. That means that there could be a second one, and, truthfully, Draco desperately wants to meet with Harry again; he wants to go on proper date, a romantic one, one without the children tagging along with them. As much as he had enjoyed talking to the five young kids, they did force the adults to filter their conversation, and they'd taken away any chances that Draco had had at receiving a goodbye kiss-

A goodbye kiss? Fuck, what the bloody hell is Draco on about? He pauses and takes a look at what he's become. Here he is, sitting on the couch, gossiping about boys with his BFF and thinking about romantic candlelit dinners and goodbye kisses. This is when he realises that he has, in fact, turned into a romantic, unrealistic, idealistic twat, one of the people he'd sworn to himself that he'd never become-

Luckily, before Draco can hate himself any more for it, the adverts come to an end and the movie continues. He forces himself to stop thinking about it. He needs to get a grip. _For the sake of Liam Neeson_ , Draco tells himself. He sighs.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally the worst author ever, oh my goodness, it's been almost two months since my last update. That's completely ridiculous, I know, but I had a concert, then comicon, then an exam to prepare for, then lots of responsibilities to be responsible about and I had almost no free time to write or breathe or do anything. Whenever I had a few minutes to myself, I was reading makoharu fanfiction to cheer myself up, or I was living vicariously through anime. I had a shitty couple of months and I didn't really feel like writing, as awful as that sounds.
> 
> Now, however, it is almost December and I'm hoping things will calm down in the lead up to Christmas, so if things go well, I should have updated again before the 20th. If I haven't, you can be really mad at me or something. 
> 
> Also, to top things off, I haven't edited this chapter properly and I don't really have time to go through it today, but I'm scared that if I don't upload it now, I'll never have to time to do it. So, if you spot any particularly ridiculous mistakes, please do point them out to me, as I make typos on the daily and spellcheck on my computer doesn't work as well as I'd like it to. I'll probably edit it better at some point this week. Probably.

When Harry starts awake to the sound of a knock on the door of his temporary bedroom at Luna and Rolf's house, he can't help but groan loudly, a sharp pain in his back making him feel impossibly shitty the within seconds of waking up. He forces himself to open his eyes, fighting against the tempting prospect of going back to sleep and never waking up again. He just wants to lay in this position and forget about the fact that he's still in the middle of a divorce with his wife of a-very-fucking-long-time, and the fact that he still has a house to buy, and the fact that he has three kids who want to see their father at some point. All of these responsibilities he wants to abandon, but he knows that he'll have to peel himself from the wonderful shield of sleep eventually. A man can hope, if not anything else.

In fact, seeing as he absolutely has to wake up and face the day, and he doesn't have the choice not to, it'd be nice to be greeted and thanked for his sacrifice by something pleasant in the morning when he opens his eyes. For example, it'd be nice to wake to the smell of bacon and strong, hot coffee coming from the kitchen. This unfortunately isn't the case, and when his eyes adjust to the bright light of the morning, he finds himself face to face with the depressing sight of piles of books and clothes covered in a thin layer of dust underneath what seems to be his bed. Wait, underneath his bed?

Well, shit. It seemed he'd somehow fallen asleep on the floor again.

His old age decides to make itself known and, embarrassingly, it takes a ridiculous amount of effort to pull himself up into a sitting position on the wooden floor, and even more to bend over and stand up. His back protests with every small movement, and once he is on his feet, he stands for a second with his eyes shut, rubbing the sore spot on his back, reminding himself that he is too bloody old to not sleep on the bed. He is not a teenager anymore. He'll just end up wrecking his back and he'll be barely able to stand by the age of eighty. Well, he's told himself this every time it has happened in the past, but he still somehow manages to fall asleep there on some very random and unfortunate occasions anyway.

This is when the seemingly impatient person at the door knocks again, louder this time. He sighs and says "Yeah?"

"Ginny's at the Floo," Rolf's muffled voice comes through the door. "She's asking to speak to you, Harry."

"Ok, tell her I'll be there in a second."

Harry waits for the sound of Rolf's retreating footsteps before he walks delicately to his suitcase, mindful of his injured back, and pulls on some clothes so that he can head downstairs to the fireplace with his dignity in tact. He goes through the gruesome effort of hobbling down a whole staircase and kneeling down on the hearth, and he is thanked for his hard work by Ginny's unimpressed face.

"Harry." Ginny says calmly. "It's bloody eleven o'clock. You are a bloody adult. Why the bloody hell weren't you awake?"

"Sorry, Gin, I had a late night." This was true. He hadn't fallen asleep until well past three o'clock in the morning.

Ginny's eyes narrow terrifyingly, her eyes threatening imminent death if he says anything wrong. "Right." She says, her voice suspiciously pleasant. "Why?"

"I had some paperwork to sort out." This, however, was a lie. He'd stayed up most of the night watching _Downton Abbey_ on the little old muggle television he'd bought from the charity shop the previous week for his makeshift room, wallowing in a sudden feeling of meaninglessness he'd been experiencing at the time, whilst he sat, coincidentally, on the floor. He must have made it well into the third series by the time he'd eventually switched the television off in a haze forged out of exhaustion and sadness, then fallen asleep on the floor.

He's quite impressed with his poker face, but Harry really doubts Ginny actually buys it. After all, she knows him better than anyone else, and they were married for a-long-fucking-time. "Hm." Comes the sceptical reply. Despite her obvious suspicion, she seems to drop the subject when she apparently remembers what she had called for. Her face softens, losing its worryingly murderous edge. "Oh, yeah. Speaking of paperwork, I got an owl. You are now officially a single, divorced man. Congratulations. I didn't know if you'd gotten your own notification yet, so I thought I'd let you know now."

Harry blinks. "Oh shit. That was quicker than I'd thought it'd be."

"I might've pulled some strings." Ginny smiles a snake-like smile, and Harry wonders, not for the first time, why she was not put in Slytherin.

Harry blinks again. He isn't sure that he is surprised. He knows that Ginny has a lot of friends at the Ministry, some of which she has quite a bit of dirt on, and he wouldn't put it past her to use that to her advantage. "Oh. Well. Wow. That's good, I guess."

With a little laugh, Ginny nods. "I know how you feel. It all feels real, all of a sudden, doesn't it?" She comments softly. She looks at him with unguarded eyes for the first time in a while, and he looks at her, now officially his ex wife, and tries not to get too emotional. The two of them share a moment, a kind of moment they've never shared before, and Harry wonders if it is a moment exclusive to only married couples who are just recently not a married couple anymore. And one of them is also a little bit gay.

"Yeah." Harry agrees, his voice low. "I haven't even got my own house yet. It feels like I'm just on holiday."

Then, abruptly, the weirdly emotional atmosphere is dropped, and Ginny jumps at the chance it ridicule him about something. "Haven't you put an offer forward for that house you were talking about?"

"Yeah, I've put in an offer. It was accepted by the owner, but the estate agent tells me that there is a long, drawn out process-"

Ginny lets out a loud sigh. "I've had enough of long, drawn out processes. For fucks sake, just get it over and done with. I want this sorted out, I need you to have a house of your own so that you can have the kids stay with you for a few weeks. I don't care how you get it done, use a bloody _Confundus_ to speed it up a bit if you need to."

"Blimey, Gin, with the way you talk, someone would think you _want_ an ex husband who goes around hexing muggles on the daily." Harry exclaims.

When Ginny smiles, it is humourless, dry. " I don't care. I just want this to be over."

**

"Oh, Harry, this is wonderful!" Luna exclaims, her face shining with happiness as he steps out of the Floo. "Rolf!" She yells, her ear-splitting grin unwavering. "Harry's offer was accepted! He's allowed to move into his house immediately!"

Pressing his lips together, Harry forces himself to smile. He is ashamed to admit that he'd taken Ginny's terrible advice, and he'd requested a meeting with his newly hired estate agent at the property that afternoon, making an excuse that Harry can't quite remember, and he'd cast the lightest _Confundus_ he could manage on her, his hand on his wand in the pocket of his coat, and convinced her to give him the keys, despite the fact that she'd previously told him that the paperwork was only half complete. He'd sent her on her way with a slight headache, but otherwise thinking there was nothing amiss.

As Rolf and Luna help him gather his things from his room, Harry distantly hopes the guilt eating away at him will have subsided by the end of the day, because he doesn't think he'll be able to sleep whilst he feels this bad about what he'd done, despite how insignificant it might have been.

"You want to take this television with you, Harry?" Rolf asks, looking at the tiny thing standing on top of the chest of drawers in the corner of his room. "Because if you're thinking of buying something bigger for your living room, I'd be happy to take this to the charity shop for you. It's awfully small."

"No, I'll take it. I'm thinking about giving it to James, he'd be glad to have a TV in his room." Harry tells him, shrinking the television set to the size of his little finger and placing it in his pocket. Rolf nods in understanding.

Once all of Harry's clothes have been successfully shoved into his two suitcases, and all of his bigger possessions have been shrunk and put into carrier bags, Luna and Rolf help him take his things outside to where the Anti-Apparition wards on their house end, in the alleyway down the side of their house. Luna is saying something to Rolf about what they're going to have for dinner when, all of a sudden, there is a graceful blur of brown and black at their feet as something darts out of the rose bush behind them, heading straight for Harry's ankles. Harry jumps, startled by the speed of the blur, and also slightly worried that he is about to be killed by the worlds smallest and most furry murderer. Of course, it is Meep, meowing for his attention. The cat rubs herself against his ankles aggressively, purring in the angriest way one can possibly purr, staring up at him with her little kitty eyes as if to ask "And where the fuck do you think you're going?"

He can't help but lean down to give her a long stroke and a scratch behind her ears, feeling like he's about to leave for good and never see the cat again, even though he knows he definitely will. "It's ok, Meep, I'll come back and visit you." He assures her, emotion bubbling in his chest. He stands again, turning to Luna and Rolf, who smile at him fondly.

"She still likes you better than us, mate," Rolf says, jokingly. "You might as well take her with you."

Harry lets out a little laugh. "I couldn't. She's happy here, she's just sad that she's losing her latest cuddle buddy."

Luna smiles. Meep meows, annoyed, stalking off down the alleyway.

The three of them, holding several bags each, stand still for a second, watching Meep's retreating form, her posture telling them that she'll be sulking and catching mice in a field for a few days before she'll eventually return, hungry for warmth and attention. Then, Luna says "We should go." and she and Rolf wordlessly grab onto one of Harry's arms. Harry Apparates with them to Brighton, outside of his new house. They offer to help him unpack his things, but he refuses, telling them that they've already done so much for him that he can't repay them for, but they eventually insist on at least helping him take his bags inside.

In the hallway, once all of Harry's bags have been stacked against the wall, ready for him to unpack later, Harry turns to his friends, feeling like he's minutes away from tears of mixed emotions. "You guys," Harry says, fondly, a watery smile taking over his face. He reaches forwards and gives them each a hug. "I am so grateful to you for putting up with my divorce drama over the last few weeks. If there's anything at all I can do to repay you-"

"Don't be silly." Luna says, her eyes shining. "We were glad to have you. I'm so happy that you're okay now, Harry. You've got your own house, you're dealing with what you're going through, and I'm so proud of you for that."

Rolf puts his hand on Luna's thin shoulder. "Yeah, Harry. You're welcome to stay anytime, if you ever get lonely in this big house of yours." He tells Harry, smiling. "I'm sure Meep will be pleased to see you."

Harry smiles. He'll be okay, he's going to make this work. He's going to sort out his life, he's going to handle his emotions and he's going to be okay. That is, if a certain blond man doesn't ruin everything for him before he can.

**

Draco is falling asleep at his desk when the door opens and the bell rings, signalling the arrival of another customer to his shop. His instincts kick in and he jolts awake, putting on his best I-wasn't-just-falling-asleep-I-swear face and forcing himself to smile the biggest smile he can without looking like a complete nutter. Once he realises who the customer is, however, any composure that he had previously possessed flies out of the window and Draco prays that he'll be able to make it to the end of the day with his sanity still even remotely in tact.

"Hello." Harry Potter says.

Draco swallows against a frustrated scream. Trust him to show up at a time like this, when not even the twelve cups of coffee and an energy drink he had consumed in the morning have managed to keep him awake. "Good afternoon, Potter. How can I help you?"

"Do you have anything for back pains?" Harry asks, approaching Draco's desk slowly.

Noticing the slight hobble in the man's walk, Draco can't help but grimace slightly in sympathy. Stiffening muscles is the worst part of getting old, Draco would say, aside from the fact that his whole body is now burdened by developing wrinkles. "A pain reliever?" He suggests. "Sure, I can give you one, but I'm not sure how strong it'll need to be. How long have you been having the pains?" Draco babbles, busying himself by rummaging around underneath his desk for his box of pain relievers.

"Well, I've been getting them for a while but they weren't that bad until a few days ago, I guess."

A box of pain relievers catches Draco's eye and he pulls it out, placing it on the desk in front of him. He begins to sift through the phials, looking for the right one. "Do you think you did anything which might have made them worse?"

"Uh, I fell asleep on the floor watching the television a couple of nights ago." Draco catches a trace of something akin to embarrassment in Harry's voice and looks up to find the hint of a light blush on his cheeks. "And I slept on a conjured mattress last night because I moved into my new house and didn't have time to buy new furniture."

Pausing in his search through the phials in his box, Draco looks at Harry carefully for a few seconds, delighting in how cute the brunet is when he blushes. Then, he nods and hums understandingly. "Sounds painful. How about you try this one," Draco begins, pulling out a phial of a medium strength pain reliever from the box triumphantly and putting it on the desk. "And see how it works for you. I'm not a Healer, but I'm sure this should at least lessen the pain. I suggest you do see a Healer if it continues to get worse, though, because it could be something more serious than just an inflamed muscle." Draco advises. He puts a piece of parchment on the desk next to the phial. "Here's the information about the dosage along with a list of ingredients, which you might want to read through now to make sure you're not allergic to anything in it."

Draco looks up to see Harry looking at him with a little, secret smile, and he realises that he'd been babbling again.

"So, yeah, uh, let me know if it works." He mumbles, feeling a blush of his own rising to his cheeks.

"How much do I owe you?"

Draco considers offering it to him on the house, but he quickly realises how stupid that would be and tosses the idea aside. "Five Galleons." He says, quietly.

Harry pays him and puts the phial into his pocket along with the list of ingredients, after quickly skimming through it. "Thank you." He says. Draco expects him to say a quick and distant goodbye, then make his excuses so he can leave immediately, but he doesn't, instead he lingers in front of the desk, eyes flickering everywhere but never landing on Draco's face.

Confused, the blond man considers asking if Harry is alright, but in the end decides against this, opting to let him say what he wants to say in his own time.

"I- uh." Harry starts. Draco sees a dark flush rising on his cheeks. His face radiates embarrassment and he looks to insecure that Draco just wants to wrap him in a blanket and cuddle him on his sofa for the next twenty years. "I was just wondering," He continues, pausing to take a breath. "If you wanted to- um, get dinner. Sometime. Like, later." He chokes out.

Draco stares at the brunet for a solid twenty seconds before it registers to him what Harry is asking him. He's asking him on a _date_. A _real, actual date_.

Apparantly the gap between Harry asking him out and Draco's reply is growing too long, because Harry is beginning to backtrack. "If you want to, of course, like, you know, if you don't want to, then that's totally cool, I mean, it was a stupid idea anyway, so whatever-"

"I want to." Draco cuts him off. "It would be nice."

"It would?" Harry asks, shocked, his face growing redder and redder with every awkward second that passes. "I mean, yeah, it would!"

"Alright, when do you want to go?"

"I can meet you here tonight at six o'clock if you're free."

"Okay, I can do that. You can, like, just knock at the door down the side of the shop, it leads straight up into my apartment." Well, Draco might have to close the shop a bit early so he can get ready, but he's not about to complain. He's going to dinner with Harry Potter, and it's taking all he has to keep himself from doing something really embarrassing like bursting into tears of happiness.

However, he can't keep himself from smiling the biggest smile he has smiled in years, and when he does, Harry smiles back. He loves to see Harry happy, that's all he ever wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I'm sorry if this chapter sucked, but please tell me what you think!:) 
> 
> Also, please note that it took a lot of self restraint to stop myself from writing in a Maggie Smith joke when Harry mentioned Downton Abbey.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, words cannot describe the stress this chapter caused me. I desperately tried to have it finished by before I had to leave to see my family at Christmas, and I did actually have it done by the 21st of December, but when I read through it for editing I was struck by how absolutely SHIT it was. It was so fucking rubbish that I sort of needed to rewrite the whole thing and I didn't have time to do it before Christmas, and then I came home after the New Year and I had some exams and I had literally no time to do anything. I am so sorry about how long this took. I swear to you, I will have the next chapter written and posted in the next two or three weeks!
> 
> But wow, after the blood, sweat and tears, the chapter is finally here! I hope you like it, I tried really hard to make it as decent as I could. As always, please let me know if you spot any spelling or grammar mistakes or typos, because I don't have a beta and I find it difficult to spot mistakes in my own work. Also, it'd be a huge help if you let me know what you think, because I'm always looking to improve my writing!
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of 2016!

Pansy is just getting comfortable on the sofa in her living room, a huge mug of hot chocolate in her hands and an episode of _Breaking Bad_ starting on the television, when she hears the obnoxious chime of the fireplace in the room across the hall.

She groans, shifting in her seat, thinking, not for the first time, that she should never have had her fireplace connected to the Floo network. Every time the damn thing chimes, it's when she's busy doing something very important, like watching her favourite shows on TV. Sometimes she wonders why she'd ever decided that she ought to try to keep in contact with the wizarding world, I mean, it's ridiculously inconvenient. However, she's not sure her Slytherin friends would ever forgive her if she disconnected her Floo, because most of them don't have the slightest clue how to work a mobile phone, and most of them cannot be bothered to get off their arses and learn.

Luckily, her experience proves valuable, and she does what she normally does when this particular situation arises. Pansy continues to stare at the television and ignores the chime as if she cannot hear it. Whoever is trying to contact her can wait; she'll call them back later, once the episode has finished, and offer them the excuse that she had been in the shower. 

The noise eventually stops, leaving the refreshing sound of quiet in its wake, and Pansy releases a relieved sigh. Now she can apply her full concentration to the television screen. She sips her hot chocolate, rubbing her sock-clad feet together. She watches with determined interest as the episode continues.

And not two minutes later, the Floo begins chiming again. Pansy doesn't even react. Fuck if she is going to abandon her TV show to talk to some persistent little bitch that keeps calling her.

Again, the noise fades to a stop and, for five minutes, she is able to watch the show in peace. It seems that the person firecalling her has given up. Pansy is lulled into a false sense of security. Honestly, she should know better than to think that the universe would let her do what she wants without interruption for any amount of time, and soon enough, the chiming begins again.

Lurching out of her seat, Pansy yells "For fuck's sake! Take the fucking hint!" and slams her mug down on the coffee table, making her cat, Beckendorf, jump down from the shelf he had been sat on and run out of the room, hissing viciously. Pansy very much understands the feeling. She jams down the pause button on her television remote and barges out of the door, then into the drawing room, swearing to herself that she will actually kill whoever is bothering her right now. She drops to her knees on the hearth, sucking in a deep breath, preparing herself to yell at the person on the other end of the call like there's no tomorrow. "I swear to-" She begins.

However, when she looks into the fire, the sight of her best friend's distraught face makes her anger fade into worry, her stomach turning as all of the horrifying possibilities of what could have happened pop into her mind at once. He could be in danger, he could be on the brink of death and she had ignored his call, just because she'd been watching some show about an old guy cooking meth. It's her job to protect him, what had she been thinking? If she fails to keep him safe, her precious childhood best friend, she'll never be able to live with herself.

"What happened, Draco?" Pansy demands.

"Oh, Pans, thank God you picked up! Please, you have to come here at once, it's an emergency!" Draco rambles, waving his hands around frantically. The blind panic on his face makes Pansy's heart skip a beat, fear taking over her entire being.

"I'll be right there, everything will be fine, stay exactly where you are." She instructs him. "I'm coming through."

Pansy jumps to her feet and slips her wand from her sleeve, stepping into the Floo without a thought, ignoring the fact that she's wearing kitten pyjamas and she'll never be able to intimidate anyone away from her innocent blond best friend in this attire. All that matters right now is keeping him safe.

She leaps out of the flames into Draco's living room, her heart pounding in her chest. The blond haired man is standing there waiting for her, his expression still laced with signs of distress and fear. Pansy has already assumed her battle stance, her eyes scanning the the room for whatever danger her friend was facing. Finding nothing amiss, she turns to Draco, question lighting up her eyes. "Draco, what-" She starts, but he grabs onto her wrist and pulls her down the hallway before she can finish. He yanks her into his bedroom.

There, Pansy finds Draco's room. At first glance, it appears that a bomb has exploded inside his wardrobe, the doors of which are swung wide open. Clothes are strewn everywhere, all over his bed and his desk and the carpet can't be seen through the layer of jeans on the floor, but there seems to be no physical threat, aside from a mild trip hazard, which Pansy hardly deems worth the panic call.

"Draco." She says, quietly, her jaw clenching, the hand holding her wand dropping to her side. "You didn't call me over, in a state blind panic, to clean your fucking room, did you? Because that's hardly a fucking emergency, and you scared me half to death, you bloody bastard!"

"Pans-"

"I thought you were dying! I thought you had a murderer in your house, threating to take everything you own and kill you, then leave you on the floor for your neighbours to find!"

"I-"

"I thought you were about to be kidnapped and I'd have to track your kidnapper down and rescue you Liam Neeson style!"

"No!" Draco yells. "It's much worse!"

"What? A messy room? Draco, that's so fucking pretentious-"

"Harry invited me out to dinner! He's coming to get me in an hour and I have no idea what to wear!" Draco wails.

"Oh shit." Pansy mutters, dropping her wand onto the bed. "That _is_ bad."

"I know. You need to help me." Draco whispers, looking at her with desperate eyes. Pansy knows, then, what she's going to do.

Rubbing her hands together, Pansy surveys her options, her eyebrows drawing together into a calculating frown. "Okay. It's fine. We can do this. I'll have you out of that door, looking hot as hell, in less than an hour, don't you worry."

**

After six angry Floo calls to her ex husband left unanswered, Ginny Weasley decides that enough is enough. She'd been over to his new house to help him connect his fireplace to the Floo network earlier in the day, and she'd left with the promise that he'd Floo call her at about four o'clock that evening to arrange a date for the children to go and stay with him. It is now almost half past five. She's absolutely livid. She grabs her coat, slipping her wand from her pocket, and storms out of the front door, knowing that the kids are safely with their grandparents. She Apparates straight to Brighton the second she's outside of the Apparition wards.

When she appears in front of Harry's house, it doesn't even occur to her that it isn't her house she's about to barge into. She strides up the path, without hesitating, and unlocks the front door with a simple _Alohomora_ , then tucks her wand down her sweater sleeve. This was the advantage of the fact that she knows he hadn't yet had time to put up any wards, despite how she'd warned him just a few hours ago that he was going to get himself robbed before the end of the week, if he wasn't careful.

She lets herself inside, prepared to begin yelling at her ex husband to stop ignoring her, but she finds the house motionless, appearing almost devoid of life, the silence eerie, almost as if the owner hasn't been home for days, even weeks. Frowning, Ginny listens for any noises that suggest that Harry is home. Hearing nothing, her instincts immediately tell her to be wary. Her guard raises, and her wand is in her hand before she stops to consider the possibilities. She makes her way down the hall.

Nothing seems amiss, only that there appears to be no one in, but she doesn't want to risk anything. Something could have happened to Harry, and despite how little she likes him at the moment, she doesn't want him _dead_. He had still been her husband for a long time, and she could never forgive herself if she left now and he was actually in danger.

Finally, just as she nears the entrance to the living room, a noise reaches her ears. Muffled by the closed door, it sounds like grunting, the noise almost too soft to be audible. Ginny interprets the grunts as grunts of pain, so without a thought, she sucks in a deep breath, and slams open the door.

" _Stupif_ -" She starts to shout, diving into the room. However, there is nothing there for her to stun. The place seems to be empty, she can see nothing but a fireplace and a pile of blankets on a mattress. Feeling like a bit of a twat, Ginny lowers her wand and listens for the grunting noises she'd heard outside of the door.

Yes, she could still her them. She wasn't going completely crazy, at least, even if she had just yelled a stunning spell at an empty room. Her eyebrows draw together in a deep frown and she looks closer at the pile of blankets. The blankets seem to be moving. Not much, just miniscule movements upwards and downwards-

Breathing.

Lunging forwards, Ginny rips the blankets away from the moving form. There, laying on a lumpy-looking mattress, was the source of the grunting noise. Harry Potter, fast asleep, his mouth hanging open, a trail of drool dribbling down his chin and his hand shoved down the back of his pyjama bottoms.

Ginny stares at the sleeping man for several long seconds, before she feels an evil smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her ex husband is in front of her, in a state of unconsciousness, so open and vulnerable, and she can't resist the temptation that inevitably takes over her. She doesn't care if it's somewhat childish, but there is no way that she isn't going to take advantage of this situation. She sticks her finger in her mouth, coating it with spit, and jams it into his ear.

Harry's eyes snap open and he lurches upwards, slapping his hand to his ear. "FUCK! What the fuck?! What the fu-" He yells. He looks at her, disbelief clear in his horrified expression. "Did you just give me a fucking wet willy?"

Laughing, Ginny nods. She wipes the offending finger on her jeans. "Yes. Serves you right for standing me up, you bloody bastard! You were supposed to call at four o'clock! It's now half past fucking five!"

The brunet freezes. His horrified expression fades into one of complete dismay, his hand dropping from his violated ear. "Shit." He whispers. "I'm going to be late." Jumping up, Harry knocks Ginny onto her back on the floor in his rush to get to the door. She's never seen her ex husband run so fast. He speeds out into the hallway and, from where she is laying, Ginny can see him running up the stairs.

Shocked, Ginny splutters, "What? Where are you going?"

Pausing, Harry turns back to her, his face full of a weird kind of excitement, something she's never seen on his face before. He smiles, his eyes shining. "I have a date." Then, he carries on running, leaving Ginny on the floor in the living room, completely stunned.

Huffing out a breath, the red haired woman stands, shaking her head fondly in the direction the brunet had just disappeared in. She has to admit, if Malfoy can make the man who'd been miserable with her for years finally happy again, she'll hand him over without any regrets. Anyone who can put a smile so excited on the stagnant face of her ex husband has a talent far beyond her reach. "Good luck, Malfoy." She mutters to herself as she heads to the door and lets herself out. She'll Floo call Harry tomorrow to arrange when the children will stay with their father, but for now, that can wait. Harry has a life to get on with, she wonders when she'll be able to get on with hers.

**

At exactly six o'clock, Pansy steps away from Draco with a final pat on the shoulder, standing back to admire her work, her hands on her hips and her lips curved upwards in a smug smile. Draco bites his lip nervously, shifting his feet. "He's going to be here soon, Pans, are you finished? How do I look?"

"Absolutely breath-taking, darling." She assures him, her eyes shifting up and down his form. "I mean, _I'd_ fuck you. Pretty sure one Harry Potter would, too, and shall do so tonight."

A flush rises on the blond haired man's pale cheeks and he lets out a stiff bark of nervous laughter. Draco slaps his best friend's arm, fixing her with a gaze full of mock disapproval. "Stop that." He tells her, folding his arms across his chest and trying to sound firm. "No bants when I'm so bloody late."

Snickering, Pansy turns him around and shoves him towards the full length mirror standing in the corner of his little room. "Of you go, now, little one, feast your eyes on my masterpiece."

Draco stumbles towards the mirror, muttering about rudeness and pushy fucking friends, why did he put up with her, but as soon as his eyes fall on the reflection he sees, all laughter and fond annoyance disappears from his mind. There he is, him, Draco Malfoy, in the mirror, looking pretty darn alright. He'd put on all of the clothes Pansy had told him to, including the pair of tight and uncomfortable black skinny jeans that he'd bought six or seven odd years ago and has to squeeze his legs into to wear these days, and also the plain black tank top that he hasn't worn since he used to actually go out into Muggle London on a Friday night instead of sitting indoors and moping whilst watching TV. Pansy had afterwards done his hair, using three different kinds of combs that she'd gone all the way back to her house to retrieve and also pretty much an entire bottle of hairspray. He looks like he's actually put some effort into his appearance, at least. Plus, he won't deny how... well-shaped his arse looks in these jeans.

"So," Pansy begins, coming to stand at his shoulder. "What do you think?"

"I look-" Draco swallows. "Satisfactory."

" _Satisfactory._ " Pansy mimics, giving him a hard shove on the shoulder. "Piss off, you look fucking hot!"

"Shut up-"

Just as Draco is going to start blushing and scolding Pansy, there's a knock at the door downstairs and Draco's eyes flicker to the clock above his bed. It's already ten minutes past six. At least, if everything else has changed since they were at Hogwarts, Harry's outright tardiness is still the same.

Nerves begin to fester inside of him, his stomach fluttering and doubt beginning to creep into his mind. He makes no move to answer the door. What if me messes everything up? He's pretty sure he won't get a second chance. Oh fuck, Harry is a Potter, of course he won't give Draco a second chance! 

Pansy pats his arm and gives him a prompting look. "Your date's here! Alright, you look hot, are you ready to go? Do you have enough money? I've put some condoms in your drawer and I'm pretty sure I saw some lube under your pillow but I decided not to mention it. There's tea in the kitchen if you decide to come inside before you go out, and I left some food in the cupboard in case you fuck and he stays until the morning, because then you'll need breakfast, won't you? You're ready. Go on then, Draco, go get the door, I'll disappear through the Floo, don't you worry-"

Draco's so nervous that Pansy's voice is just a wordless drone at the back of his mind, and he can't bring himself to pay attention to what she's saying. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and he's probably got sweat patches on his top already, but it doesn't fucking matter because he's bound to mess up at some point tonight, isn't he? He might as well do it right away, by looking like a sweaty mess right off the bat.

"Draco? Are you nervous?" Pansy crosses the few paces between them and pulls him into a comforting hug. Draco's feels himself involuntarily relax, and he pushes his face into the fabric of Pansy's kitten pyjama shirt. "You'll be fine. You're an absolute sweetheart, he'd be crazy to let you go."

"What if I mess up, Pans?"

"You won't, you just have to believe that you won't." Pansy tells him, wisely. Draco mentally rolls his eyes. What a load of bullshit. "You've dated before, haven't you? You know how to act. Plus, if you do mess up, just think that it can't be worse than that date I had with stinky Steven when I worked at Ikea. Do you remember that?"

Draco does remember that. He lets out a weak laugh into Pansy's shoulder. That's right, he'll be fine. He pulls himself out of her embrace and stands up straight, sucking in a deep breath. "I'll be ok." He says aloud, mostly to himself.

"Yeah, that's the spirit! You'll be fine! Now, go downstairs and go the fuck out with Potter."

Draco does.

"Have a good time, honey!" She says, and gives his arse a joking slap as he passes her on his way out of the room. Draco yelps, listening to her almost diabolical laughter fading as he makes his way down the hall. _What a loser,_ he thinks, fondly, desperately trying to quell his nerves. It was as his best friend had said, he was going to be fine, he'll have a good date and it'll be fine.

At least, he bloody hopes it will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!:)


	13. AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst author ever I'm so sorry.

Hey everyone, it's been a while, hasn't it? 

First of all, I'm so sorry if you thought this was a new chapter! You see, I just wanted to put up a note to let you guys know that I probably won't be continuing this fic. I'm going to tag the work as on hiatus but I really have no idea where the plot is going and it is likely that I will not carry it on. 

I tried so hard to at least write one more chapter, but every time I read over what I have written so far, I made myself hate the whole thing more and more. I tried uploading it to quotev to see if I'd get any comments that inspire me to write a chapter 13, but unfortunately I have remained in this horrible state of writer's block when it comes to this fic. I apologise to those of you who have enjoyed it so far and are waiting for an update, but I'm afraid I am unable continue it. Thanks for your support and comments up until this point.

However, on the bright side, I'm going to carry on writing my MakoHaru and KageHina fics, and I might even write a few new drarry one shots! Writing is still my favourite thing to do, but I just find it hard to write this particular fic. This won't be the last you hear from me in the HP fandom! *evil laughter fading out*

Thanks for reading my dumb author's note, sorry if I made spelling mistakes or typos. I might decide to pick this fic up again in the future, but until then, farewell my DMATQTMPH readers!


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